Reader and Writer Eragon
by allyce1
Summary: Emily Harlen, a normal girl in a normal world - completely Eragon-free...until a mysterious portal sucks her into a world of fantasy and magic. Equiped with the knowledge of the future and her own unique power, how will she fare in Alagaesia?
1. The Books

**Chapter 1**

**The Books**

The row with my dad has lasted for so long; I no longer have any breath to yell at him. Silently cursing him, as words were beyond me, I take the stairs, two at a time, up one long flight and a second short one, composed of only 6 stairs. Running as fast as I can, I head for the bedroom directly opposite me. Flinging the door open, I launch myself onto my bed without giving my ridiculously untidy bedroom a second glance. Right now, I can concentrate on more than my bedroom.

The bed groans and heaves, but I ignore it and set about the important business of crying. I hate crying but now, it seems that the only way to occupy my time was by reflecting on what Dad had said and done. It felt like he had committed an unimaginable crime, as if he had betrayed his own daughter. But then, if I concentrate on that, the tears of anger wells up behind my eyes and even though I try to blink them back; they overflow, sending streams of pure liquid sorrow down my face. There was no way out of the horrible cycle. _Unless I escape,_I think to myself. Not physically of course. I love adventure, and when I was younger, I used to want to run away to find it. But my guilt and love for Mum and Dad had forced me to delay leaving until someone found out and told. It was if a mysterious being was working behind the scenes, trying to bring my schemes down.

The only option available to me is to escape mentally. I grabbed at a book and turned the cover and the map of the setting, Alagaësia. I know this book well. It was my favourite, _Eragon_ by Christopher Paolini. I've barely turned to the first page when a book comes flying out of the bookcase and hits me on the head.

"OW! MILLIE!"

It's my natural reaction, something goes on; I'd assume Millie had done it. Millie and I get on well together sometimes, sometimes not so well. And on the occasions we don't get on so well, we really get on each other's nerves.

I turn around but the door was closed shut. I look at the books that were…? BOOKS? I didn't put the other book there. Who did? Or was that the book that had decided I needed a head bruised. I look back at the bookshelf and another book flies out of the shelf. I duck instinctively. It speeds over my head and lands on my bed. It stays there for a moment, quivering. First _Eragon, _then the book that hit me on the head, then the next, and finally a green hardback I don't recognise opens, as if the same wind was blowing all of them. The pages turned and turned with frightening speed until there were no more left. Except from the free page at the back that is a blank page with nothing on - nothing? There was a picture on it. Incredibly detailed as if it were…real.

The picture was moving. Knowing exactly what to do somehow, I put my hand on _Eragon, _and the other book at the end, I don't recognise, and I also put my hand on it. _Eragon _seems to open a shaft of golden light that expands until I could dive in. The portal seems to suck me in. I give a yell of surprise as the books I rest my hands on, disappears, and suddenly, I have nothing to hang on to. I am sucked into the portal leaving my world behind.

When I awake, I am lying in a room of a house on a bed. The covers are coarse compared to what I am used to, but the smell of the house was the smell of herbs. I don't know who I am or where I am. All I know is that someone knows I was here and helped me. I feel strangely cold, but it was the sort of cold that comes after fighting the warm for too long. There is also the sensation of a new mind, new defences, although I have no idea how to marshal them. There is also a place inside of me that offers unlimited power, although, like my new, open thoughts and defences, I'm not sure I can touch it yet. I don't really care about those things. I don't know where I am. If I don't know where I am, I am in danger.


	2. The Town Healer

**Chapter 2**

**The Town Healer**

I open my mouth to scream at this bizarre new world and a woman comes in. I close my mouth and the strange woman comes to the side of my bed and starts petting my hair.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her long brown hair is uncut and her voice is gentle and soft. Her deep brown eyes are the eyes of comfort and loving warmth.

"I-I-I think so," I manage to get out. "Where am I?"

"You're in Carvahall of course," she says with a smile.

_Carvahall? But that's impossible! Am I actually inside the story? _I force down the bubble of panic rising in my throat and try and pay attention as the woman continues.

"To be more specific, you're in my house. I'm Carvahall's healer. My name is-"

"Gertrude!" I exclaim unexpectedly. I shock even myself. "You're Gertrude!"

Gertrude looks at me worried and wary. I am upset; the warmth of her eyes has vanished, leaving the cold dark pits of suspicion. She withdraws her arm from my head as if she has been stung.

"How do you know my name? I have not seen you before."

I curse my stupidity. If I _am _inside the book, I need to shut up that I know more than I should. Yeah. Keep the information that I know their future _down low, _you know what I mean?

"I've just arrived here. I've run away from my parents and I heard two men arguing about something. One of them had a cut and the other one was telling him to go to you because she was the best healer that he had ever seen. The other one said it was only a cut and he'd wait to see if it would heal. Personally though, I think he should have seen you. Cuts don't have to be long or deep to be nasty."

I finish this in one breath. It seems like a convincing story. I'm quite good at telling lies. The suspicion in Gertrude's eyes disappears almost as soon as it comes, leaving only the flicker of unease, as if she knows something isn't right.

"You're quite right," murmurs Gertrude softly. "Are you anything to do with the strange going on of things around here?"

I sit bolt upright, to sudden, to soon. A wave of dizziness washed over me but I don't care. Perhaps this will give me a clue to why I am here. Gertrude notices my interested look.

"Eragon, a boy from a mile north of Carvahall, brought a stone out of the Spine. He's here now. I'm just going to check on Eragon. He's suffered a lot, but I think he'll be ready to go home. His uncle has been brutally wounded by strangers that want to know about the stone. It's not apparent whether he'll live or die yet. Now you come to me, unconscious, burning with fever, with no apparent cause, seeming to know my name almost as if my mind was an open book. You can see how I was unsettled."

I nod slowly, trying not to flinch at the word _book_. _She isn't far off the truth,_I think. The strange perspective that this world has worked on my mind troubles me again, until I block the worries from my mind out. The other thing that worried me is that it might already be too late; Eragon might have left with Brom, the storyteller that was actually a Dragon Rider and Eragon's father. To avenge the Ra'zac. Brom will, if I remember the story correctly, die. I snarl inwards at myself for even thinking those thoughts. No. Brom is not going to die. Not while I still live. But if Garrow is still alive, then Eragon hasn't left. And if Eragon hasn't left…suddenly though, I know what I have to do.

"Can I go and see Eragon? You mentioned he was a child, and I haven't seen anyone my age for a while." My tongue slips over the word. I may have read it before, but it isn't the sort of book you read out loud.

"Of course," Gertrude replies with a charming smile. "Just take it easy. It was a mild fever you had, but you seem to recover quickly. Can you walk to the smith's house? I'm sure Elain and Horst would be glad to let you see Eragon."

She reminds me of my mother. She always says that I heal quickly as well. Despite the row I had with my father, a pang of loneliness wells up inside of me, made worse by the fact that I have to act like a complete stranger, even though I know loads about them.

"Elain and Horst? Who are they?"

"Horst is the village smith. We had to keep Eragon over at their place because he wanted to be next to Garrow. Still, I get my bed back so I'm not complaining."

It is quite a while to the smithy, much more than I expected, but it's worth it. The smithy is beautiful, full of gargoyles and vines, hearts and serpents. I gasp. The house is built with the view in mind; it has an unobstructed view of the mountains, which are covered, in snow. The Anora River flows smoothly beside me and the village seems…medieval. I shouldn't be surprised, I read all the books, but I am starting to learn that it is by seeing and doing, not reading, that you learn. And perhaps I am beginning to learn that books aren't everything in life. But perhaps I can help Eragon.

Gertrude raps at the door. A woman I assume is Elain, a blonde haired slim lady, of about 35 or even 40 answers it almost immediately. I've never been good with age. She looks delicate and graceful, not the sort of wife you expect a smith to take.

"Yes? Hello?"

"We've come to check up on Eragon and Garrow. This is one of my patients who would like to visit Eragon. She has had a slight fever, but nothing serious, and I am certain she is not contagious."

"Come on in!"

"Thank you," I say, stepping out of the blustery cold. The snowy mountain range that I assume is the Spine seems to have filled the valley with a freezing temperature.

Elain puts a piece of bread to one side and begins sawing to produce another slice.

"What is your name, young lady?" enquires Elain. Unlike mum, who only says that when she is angry with me, Elain's voice is full of sparkle and good cheer. I open my mouth to give my name when a thought stops me. What is my name is completely different to those around me? I come from a different world. I want to blend in, not be more of a threat than I already am. And if I do give my name then I might not get it back. I am worried, but I hardly know why. That does not stop me from lying, "My name is Kiera."

Elain seems startled. The problem is, without taking another person's name, which I really don't want to do; I don't know what sort of name I can pick. I hope Elain doesn't question me about it. Instead, she says, "That is an unusual name."

I nod. "I know." I am reluctant to lie any more than I need to, and Elain seems to sense my unease and doesn't question me anymore. Instead, In order to keep up appearances, I ask as sweetly as I can, "Have you any sons or daughters?"

Elain laughs and I can tell, even though she was a bit put off at first, she is starting to like me.

"I have 2 sons, Albriech and Baldor. You'd be hard pressed to find any more hard-working sons in Alagaësia, although I don't broadcast the fact." She laughs again and I chuckle with her.

A tall boy, nearing manhood stumbles through the door. He has blonde hair and his father's muscular build, especially in the forearms.

"Just had the forge clearing out. Blasted snow."

Elain nods at him and turns back to me. "That's Albriech. He's the only male in Carvahall to have blonde hair. The other one is Baldor. You'll probably see him later."

"May I see Eragon?" I ask, both Elain and Gertrude.

Gertrude looks at Elain. "Of course you can," she smiles.

Gertrude takes my hand. I always hated it when my mother did it. I felt like I was bound by shackles and she wouldn't let me go whenever she seized it, but Gertrude's grip is very soft and her hand is just for security and comfort. I smile and allow her to lead me upstairs. We go upstairs and reach a landing. Gertrude points at the first room and says, "Eragon is staying there. You arrived about 3 minutes after I returned."

That makes sense. I feel a jolt of unease. That means that Garrow dies tonight! I MUST see Eragon. And soon. He leaves tomorrow!


	3. Eragon

**Chapter 3**

**Eragon**

I almost run up the landing and fling open the door. Gertrude raises an eyebrow, but I don't care. A boy with brown hair and eyes and a tunic that bares a scar on his wrist stares back at me. I suddenly realise that this is going to be very difficult.

"Hi, what's your name? I haven't seen you here before," he comments.

"I've just arrived. Eragon, you need my help."

Suddenly the boy looks as tense as a cornered wolf.

"I know this sounds improbable, but I know what is going to happen. The Varden and you need my help."

"You know?"

"I know. And believe me, I don't mean you any harm, neither does anyone else know."

"How can I believe you? It is hard to know who to trust and who not to."

I nod. I expect that.

"Show me your right palm."

Eragon suddenly clenches his right hand into a fist.

"Now how could I know about your _gedwëy ignaisia, _your shining palm? No one knows, otherwise they'd be questions here there and everywhere. Do you believe me?"

"You might be working for the Empire." He's stubborn but cautious. I respect that.

"I know what is about to happen. I also know what has happened, although in less clarity. But, would I be right if I said that Saphira went flying one time and she caught an eagle?" Eragon gasped. "There is more. When she caught it, she also released it, commenting that no hunter of the skies should end their days as prey. Better die on the wing then be pinned to the ground. Exact words, if I'm not mistaken."

Eragon reluctantly nods. "You are right. How do you know?"

I hesitate. Eragon wouldn't believe me if I told him.

"I can't tell you," I whisper. "But Eragon, I'm so sorry for your loss."

Eragon gives a harsh laugh, underlying with pain. "Uncle Garrow's not dead yet," he says.

"Eragon," I whisper. "Unless I help you, Brom will suffer the same fate as Garrow will tonight. I don't want to make you suffer, but you need my help."

Eragon sits up on his bed. "Brom? What has Brom got to do with it?"

Suddenly, I realise that I've said too much.

"Can you promise me that you won't tell anyone except Brom and Saphira what I know? I had to lie to everyone and I can't lie to you or Brom. And as for your questions, Brom play a major part of your life soon."

Eragon agrees tersely.


	4. Saphira's Story

**Chapter 4**

**Saphira's Story**

I turn to leave but Eragon limps across the room with surprising speed.

"Don't go."

I turn round.

Only then do I notice the thickness of the trousers. Too thick. Suddenly I realise most of the thickness is bandages. I gasp. But Eragon has better things to do than to comment on it.

"Do you know about Saphira and where she came from?"

"I do."

"Tell me! Please! I need to know!"

I pause, considering if this knowledge could be dangerous. I decide that it isn't.

"You have heard from Brom how the Riders were brought down by Galbatorix. And you have probably heard that no other dragon eggs existed, or, at least, no one could find them. Am I correct?"

Eragon nodded.

"In actual fact, there are 2 more dragon eggs. Saphira was the third. They were all in Galbatorix's possession after he stole them with the last battle of the Riders."

"Then how did Saphira get here? I know it was magic."

"A man found the existence of a tunnel under Uru-Baen, the capital. The Varden arranged to have someone steal the eggs. The thief only got one egg though, and he ran away with it."

Eragon looked amazed at the information.

"Then, when the Varden got the egg back, the humans and the elves argued over who should have the egg. The elves didn't want to let the humans handle it for fear that the egg might hatch to someone like Galbatorix. And the humans didn't want the egg to hatch to the elves. The humans and the elves argued and argued until a compromise was made. An elf and 2 others, one of whom you will meet on your journey, ferried the egg between the Varden and the elves until on the way back to the Varden they were attacked."

"I'll meet one of them?" asked Eragon dumbfounded.

"If events take its course, yes."

Eragon seemed too amazed for words

"So, they were attacked by a Shade, Durza, who worked for the Empire. 2 elves fell, but the female elf that possessed the egg sent it to the Spine by magic, and then collapsed from the Shade's attack. She is, at this very moment, being…questioned about the location of the egg, elves and the Varden."

"So my egg was sent…to me from an elf?"

"Correct. Her name is Arya."

"Arya," he said, trying out the name on his tongue.

"Now it's my turn to ask a question," I replied with a smile. "May I speak with Saphira?"

"Of course," Eragon replied with a smile. "That is if she wants to speak with you."

There was a pause and suddenly, a huge, powerful presence entered my mind. From it emanated,

_Hello Farseer. May the sun be at your back._

_Greetings Brightscales. I have important information for you also._

_It seems that you already had, but go on._

_Saphira, your parents._

Suddenly, I felt her stiffen mentally.

_You know the name of my parents?_

_I do. Vervanda was your mother. Your father was Iormungr, bonded to a Rider. Your mother was a wild dragon, very fierce but proud. They had many eggs, but only one egg was entrusted to the Riders. Both of your parents perished in the Fall of the Riders. _

_Do you know anything else about me?_

_You are the last female dragon in existence. _

Even though I say it softly and in the best comforting voice I can, the pain of this statement washes over me and I tremble when I think how she must be feeling.

_I am so sorry Saphira,_I manage to mumble feebly, before she closes her mind to me, to hide herself from me as much as to shield me from the pain.

I came back to myself and find Eragon staring at me.

"How do you know all of this?" he asks in an awestricken voice. I know he was listening through Saphira what I said.

"If I told you, Eragon, I could be in danger in the near future. And Eragon?"

"Yes?"

"There will come a time where you have to decide whether to stay in Carvahall or not. I am not sure if that time will come now I have interrupted the course of events, but if you choose to leave, take me with you. I can help. Without me, Arya may die."

I turn to leave, but Eragon snatches at my wrist. Without thinking, I rotate my wrist, forcing him to let go without pain, but I turn to face him. Eragon's face is white and in his eyes are astonishment, and another emotion I can't identify.

"I know there are things you can't tell me," he begins. "But I know that, wherever I go, you go, because you can see far ahead of me. Fear not, even if I leave urgently, I will make sure you are by my side. But don't get your hopes up; I don't think anything can persuade me to leave Carvahall."

I sigh with relief. "Thank you Eragon. I know that you are still suspicious of me, and I am glad for a chance to prove yourself."

"Would you mind if you slept here tonight? I'd feel safer if you were."

"Not at all, if it is okay with Elain and Horst. I said that I just turned up here after I ran away from my mum and dad. Just so you know. Are you sure they'll let me sleep here? With you, Garrow, Horst, Elain, Albriech and Baldor, will there be enough room?"

Eragon winks at me. "I'll convince them. What is your name?"

"My real name I will tell shortly. But my name now is Kiera."

Eragon puts out a hand, a twinkle in his eye. "Pleased to meet you Kiera."

I reach out and shake it.


	5. Horst's House, Garrow's Death

**Chapter 5**

**Horst's House, Garrow's Death**

Eragon staggers out of the room and I rush to his side.

"Don't let this put you off flying," I whisper and Eragon throws me a cautious look. I'm about to snap back at him, but I realise that he's right. We don't know who could be listening in. I suddenly realise how long he has had to practise this art. I take this lesson onboard.

"Eragon!" exclaims Gertrude. "I see you're doing much better."

"Yes, thank you Gertrude," he replies, as sweetly as he can. "And thank you for helping me, Kiera," Eragon replies. He frowns. "Didn't I see you out hunting? In the Spine? I definitely offered you some of my food. You're in better shape now though. You didn't look too good in the Spine."

He winks. _Just go along with it, _the wink says. I wink back and put on a look of recognition.

"Oh…that's where I saw you. I thought I'd seen you before."

"What where you doing?" asks Eragon, his voice dripping with concern.

I sigh. "Running away," I mumble. "I didn't like my parents, they kept beating me and I hated them and they hated me. So I left."

"You poor thing!" Eragon exclaims.

"Lucky I found you when I did," I reply. "I was getting really hungry."

"So _that's _why you passed out," says Gertrude with an air of satisfaction. "Funny though, you don't _look_ that thin."

"Eragon brought down a deer," I say. "He was getting low on food and decided he didn't want to return empty handed. So Eragon and me ate until I thought I'd burst. Without him, I'd probably have starved to death. I owe my life to him."

"Well, Eragon, you failed to include that detail," smiled Elain.

Eragon put on a shamefaced look. "I thought I still had a chance of catching another deer. And she and I were really hungry."

"I'm proud of what you did," Horst rumbles. "Garrow would have been proud of you as well. He may have been as sharp as a needle at times, but he would have approved of your actions, I think. If you feel that strongly about each other, I suppose you can stay here Kiera."

He looks at me and I look at him.

"Thank you so much sir," I reply, performing a clumsy curtsey. "You are most kind."

"Think nothing of it," replies Horst, obviously pleased. "Any friend of Eragon is a friend of mine. The rooms are taken, but you can share Eragon's if you are agreeable. I can have several sheets put down on the floor for you and a blanket for a cover?"

I opened my mouth to thank him, but Eragon overrode me saying, "Kiera may have my bed if she wants. I wouldn't feel like an honest man, having a lady on the floor, while I slept in comfy sheets. _I _will have the floor, Kiera."

"Are you sure?" I ask Eragon. "I don't want to turn you out of your bed."

Eragon smiles. "If I offered, then you didn't do anything. Therefore, you can't turn me out of your bed."

Overwhelmed by his generosity, I thank him again.

Horst and Elain seem to except this as well. Elain goes back to kneading dough for bread and I join her.

"May I help? You might have to show me how it's done though?"

Elain smiles at me. "Of course you can. All you do is use your knuckles to push the dough forwards…yes, like that. Then, when it becomes too stretched out, you fold it over like so, and push your knuckles forwards again."

I try it out. I did help out once or twice in the kitchen and when I was a teeny tiny toddler in nappies, we lived in the countryside and my mum collected grain for bread. I only remember kneading the dough, but even though it was so far back that I don't remember how I did it properly, the skill stayed with me.

_Memory is brief and distant,_I thought, _but a skill is forever._

Soon, the action became so natural to me that I let my mind wander. The only conclusion I could come to was either a strange being was teaching me a lesson, or some strange magic was going on. I cast my mind on what Eragon believed in. It was hard to strain my mind, as it felt is if I hadn't read the book for ages. By this point, I'd probably have decided to read the book. I think of the book, every detail of the front cover clear in my mind, and an absurd thought springs into my mind. _Maybe, if I thought about it enough, I'll make the book appear!_Somehow, something about the idea convinces me to try it out. Despite the room full of people, the idea is too exciting to wait.

I think about _Eragon _until every detail is clear in my mind and with all my willpower, I summon the book. Suddenly, the book appears on the worktop beside me. I notice that Eragon has seen the book materialising, and his face is one of amazement, the same reaction on his face as in my emotions. I make a _careful _face at him and he sits down, but can't erase the astonished look on his face. Suddenly, I see Elain looking at me. The book is hidden behind me, but she's glanced at Eragon. My stomach drops 15 floors, leaving my body behind.

"What have you got their Kiera?" Elain walks round to the other side of me. Automatically, I compose the image of the book in my head, and banish it, exactly like I summoned it. I can't bear to look at the book, but I know it's gone. That doesn't stop me from being nervous.

"Oh!" exclaims Elain. "Nothing's there! You know, for a moment, I thought I could see a page sticking out!" I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

I force my tongue to unravel and chuckle. "The mind plays strange tricks on your eyes sometimes, doesn't it?"

"That it does," replies Elain. "That it does."

It is soon teatime and instead of saying grace like at home, the family tucks straight into the food. I am starting to like this area. Already, I love Carvahall and the people in it and I have to remind myself of the splendour of Farthen Dûr and the fate of Carvahall to convince myself that I must leave. Gertrude left before dinner started, saying that she must get back to her house. Thankfully, she has no more patients to care for.

Albriech and Baldor tell Elain about the new hammerhead that Baldor had forged, as this was the best one he had forged before. I silently wonder whether the hammerhead would become the choice weapon of Eragon's cousin Roran, who would take the name Stronghammer. Baldor asks me about my past. I like Baldor. Under any other circumstances, and if he wasn't way older than me, I'd probably consider asking him to be my first boyfriend.

"So, where are you going?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I lie. "I usually stick to the Spine, but I made my way to Carvahall when my bow broke. I've been looking for food ever since, and I was about to starve when I met Eragon."

"And after that?"  
>"I was just so exhausted. Even though there's no feeling like a bit of meat in your belly, it's still really exhausting to be trekking a lot." Baldor agrees but senses my discomfort, doesn't mention the subject any more.<p>

I was starting to feel uncomfortable about lying to these kind people. Eragon is looking at me with an impressed expression on his face, although closely guarded, as if he hopes that he could lie as well as me. But the truth is, Eragon's story, even the very beginning, is by far the glamorous adventure I had imagined. Baldor can pick up on things, really easily. Instead of concentrating on my discomfort, I decide to focus on the difference in my mind. There is a secret power in my mind, and if I remove all the thoughts from my mind, I can almost reach it. With an excited jolt: I wonder if the secret power that lies beyond me is magic! It would make sense as because in our world, we cannot perform magic. I just need to know how to access it, use the Ancient Language dictionary in the back of the _Eragon _books and I could do great and glorious things…I actually started giggling. Mentally of course.

I also wondered about my new power of summoning the books. But before I could make any progress on the subject, the meal is finished and we make our way up to bed. I am so preoccupied; I hardly notice the mattress that Elain has put down for Eragon and lie down on the bed. For a long while I don't move, I just set aside all distracting thoughts and focus on the books. It would be unwise to test my magic yet, but thinking about the books won't hurt. Eragon is not in bed yet; I can hear him talking downstairs.

I focus on the third book, _Brisingr, _and summon it. It is easier to summon it now I've practised downstairs; every go at it makes it easier. I practise again and again, trying to achieve it almost with a simple flick of my mind. I remember the green hardback book that created the portal along with the other books. I suddenly realise that the fourth book has yet to be released.

_Could the green hardback be the fourth book? _I wonder. I try and summon it, and it materialises, but I am unable to wrench back the cover. The actual book is called Inheritance, but, beyond that, I do not know a thing about it.

_What if__, _I ask; _I can not only summon the Eragon series, but other things from my world as well!_I concentrate on my favourite teddy, a polar bear cub called Nanuk. I listen for the feeling that tells me that she has arrived. It is there, but I can't see her. Suddenly, I spot her on Eragon's mattress and I swoop down and get her just as Eragon walks in the room.

"What was that?" he asks. I show him Nanuk.

"It's a doll!" he exclaims. "How did you get it?" I suddenly realise the rift between us. A teddy is a doll? Come on.

"It's called a teddy, and I really have no idea how I got it. Its name is Nanuk." I pause. Can I trust him to keep how I am here a secret? I decide that I can.

"Do you believe in a separate world to your own?" I ask.

Eragon looks startled at the suggestion.

"I never really thought about it."

I think of the easiest way to explain it.

"I come from a separate world, where we have advanced a lot more. Your world is a book, written by a man called Christopher Paolini."

"The name echoes around my head like a half forgotten dream," whispers Eragon.

"It is the name of your creator. I come from that world, and, it seems, that I control the flow of objects from that world to this."  
>"Is it magic?"<p>

I shake my head. "Not unless it is a strange type of magic that bypasses all the rules that keep it in place. To transport these objects would take so much energy that they would kill me if I used magic. But I have no strength depleted after summoning Nanuk."

I hold my hand out and, with all the practise I have had, Nanuk suddenly disappears.

"First you're a Farseer," whispers Eragon. "Then you're a Conjurer."

"Trust me," I reply. "I am more startled than you. I really have no idea how I got here."

"You must want to get home so badly," comments Eragon. I suddenly realise he is right. Whatever row I've had with my dad can't make up for the fact that I love him and I know that he loves me.

"So tell me," Eragon says, kneeling next to my bed. "Could you let me read my story?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to push my skills that far yet. Besides, there are some things in the book that could prove dangerous for you."

Eragon seems disappointed, but not surprised.

"Do you know who my father is?"

I hesitate. I do know. It is Brom, but I don't want to reveal what Brom will conceal.  
>"I know that if an enemy of yours ever claims that you are his brother, it is not true," I say evasively.<p>

"I need to get to sleep," I suddenly decide. "Wake me if anything happens."

"I will," reassures Eragon.

I snuggle into my bed.

I awake to the sound of Eragon crying. The room is freezing. Elain is singing him to sleep. In the next room, I can hear people uttering consolations.

_Garrow has died._

_Garrow has died._

Suddenly, I understand Eragon's fear. _That _could be me! If I die, do I disappear or simply return home? Even if I can see the future, how can I prevent every death? Not the books in the world can cover my sorrow. _I am the missing link, _I realise. _I can help the Varden. I can save millions from Galbatorix. The Varden need me. The mission is more important now that ever._

I cannot sleep. I slip out of the room and go in through the open doorway and see the bed on which Garrow lies.

I have never seen Garrow before. He has a stern face, but with underlying care and love that takes your breath away if you can see it. An amulet was clasped round his neck and a sprig of flowers…hyssop…on his chest. I return to my room empty. For the first time, I push out with my mind, feeling for Saphira. I sense her presence, but out of politeness, I wait for her to recognise me and lower her barriers.

_Farseer._

_Brightscales._

_I sense you are worried._ I give a weak smile.

_A bit of an understatement but I value your concern nevertheless._

_Why have you contacted me?_

_I wanted to apologise about intruding on your life. But also, I come with a question._

_Yes?_

_Do you trust me Saphira? Do you believe that I mean you no harm? Please answer me truthfully._

It feels like the most important question I've ever asked. Does a dragon, the last female dragon in the world, trust me, a common, weak, human girl?

_I trust you will not lead us into harm, yes. But what are your motives?_

_There are traitors in the Varden. An army converges on the last rebels to the Empire. An elf is close to dying and along the way, Eragon faces many dangers and many losses, to both him and the alliance against Galbatorix. I can see these happening. I know when they are coming. I need to be with Eragon, or at the very least, get to the Varden. I need to help._

I sense her pause at the information.

_Powerful motives,_she says.

_But Eragon is the key, the hope. I cannot let him become so crushed with grief that he forgets his role in the world. He needs to leave Carvahall. And soon._

I sense Saphira deciding.

_I will help._


	6. The Adventure Begins

**Chapter 6**

**The Adventure Begins**

I felt Eragon shaking me awake. The first thing I noted was his eyes, not wet with grief, but hard with anger and determination.

"You were right," Eragon said, his voice steely. "We have to leave. I have not forgotten my promise."

I fling back the covers and tie my boots up. I reach for Saphira's mind and whisper _thank you_and remained in her mind long enough to hear her acknowledgement and stood up.

"We'll have to steal some things," Eragon informed me, walking out of Horst's, making sure they weren't seen. "Although you'll probably already know. Will I succeed making a few trips to Gedric's and the Tavern?"

At first, I felt surprised. In the story, he goes to Sloan's, but I remember that he changes his mind.

"I suggest going to Sloan's. There will be people looking for you though."

Eragon nods.

"You'll better do the actual stealing," I tell him. "In the story, you don't get caught. But I'm not sure how things will fare if I come along with you."

"Okay." He walks at a brisk place down the main street until he comes to two trees.

"Slip in between those. It might be uncomfortable, but it'll have to do."

I nod and hiss a "be careful" in his direction. He inclines his head and disappears.

I sat down in between the trees. Eragon was right, it is uncomfortable here. I pass the time by running by fingers across the floor and I pause when I get to a smooth, hard, bump. I prise it from the roots of the tree and look at it. It's a smooth stone, not very big, but quite thick. The stone gives me an idea. I balance it on my hand and set aside all thoughts like I do when I contact Saphira. Instead of reaching out to the stone though, I simply explore my new, tangible mind, relishing the control that I now have, until a feel the bump of the secret power again. I ram it again and again, until it smashes and a green mist gathers around my fingers. Reviewing the words needed, I command, "Stenr rìsa!"

The stone wobbles and lifts a few feet in the air. The shock of defying the gravity overwhelms my concentration and the stone drops into my hand. The spell leaves me with only a bit of energy depleted, but the effort of concentration costs me a little more.

_It's like my Conjuring, _I realise. _You just have to practise. _I practise until Eragon returns. He greets me, deposits the hides that he has stolen from the tanning vats and leaves again. After that I am on the lookout. Suddenly, footsteps sound, muffled and quiet, but very close. Cautiously, he enters the hollow, but jumps back as he sees me.

"Don't be afraid Brom," I say, recognising his features from the descriptions in the book. My voice does not seem to make any effect on his as he moves with lightning speed and clamped a hand around my mouth and a cold metal knife is pressed to my throat. Very carefully, he removes his hand.

"How do you know me?"

"I am a friend of Eragon," I reply. It isn't a lie, but it isn't answering the whole question either. I hope he'll take it to mean that I know him because of Eragon. He doesn't.

"I've never known anyone to be that calm when they're being held and a knife is against their throat," he comments. "But you still don't answer any of my questions."

I almost scowl. Damn. The elves' tricks won't work on him.

I feel a pressure on my mind and concentrate on the rock in my hand. Brom is trying to break into my mind. I concentrate on the rock to the exclusion of all else. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art and books can only get you so far. My concentration slips for half a second and Brom weaves his way into my mind.

"Stop!" I plead. "Brom, stop! What do you want to know?"

The presence halts and withdraws with a triumphant air. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"I want to know what connection you have with Eragon," demands Brom.

"I can see what is to come. How, I'll have to keep to myself. Eragon is the fastest way to the Varden, and also, I have to protect him." I pause. "And you."

"Me? You protect me?"

"Unless I help, the Ra'zac will kill you. Please don't ask me how I know this. I know you have secrets as well, and I know some of them, but please, you have to trust that I mean no harm to you, Eragon, or the Varden."

Brom nods for a second and slowly withdraws the knife, although he never lowers it even for a second.

Brom's face goes blank for a second but then returns and says, "What of Eragon's best friend. Do you know of her?"

I chuckle. "Eragon has never met her in my presence, and I have not seen her but yes, I know of his dragon."

Suddenly, Eragon returns, holding the meat. He sees Brom and me and turns on me. "Explain Kiera."

"He is an ally. A friend. He will not harm you or Saphira."

Brom's face is transformed into shock, but suppresses it before Eragon sees. Saphira was the name of his first dragon. Brom was also a Rider.

Brom smiles at Eragon maliciously, but I manage to remind myself that he has good intentions.

"I have talked with Saphira and she has agreed to stay above us until we have settled our differences. As you see, you don't really have any choice but to answer my questions. Now tell me, where are you going?"

"I was going to find a safe place to go while I heal."

"And after that?"

Eragon seemed to stumble a bit before replying, "I was going to hunt down the strangers and kill them."

"A mighty task for one so young," replies Brom as if someone had just told him that he would need eggs to make an omelette.

"Certainly a worthy endeavour and it strikes me that, although you already have some company, you could accept my help."

Eragon looked suspicious, but I reassure him, saying, "You can trust him, Eragon."

Eragon seems to consult with Saphira before answering, "I don't need your help, but come if you wish."

"Then we'd better be going."

His face blanked. "Saphira will talk to you if you wish."

Eragon lost no time in doing so; I could almost see the words passed between them, written on his face.

"We should go," repeats Brom, and gestures.

Eragon hesitates.

"Brom has left a letter in Gertrude's care, explaining him to be on guard for danger and explaining a few things," I reassure him, knowing what he was going to ask. Brom looks a bit taken aback, but he soon recovers his composure.

We leave, being careful not to be seen. People are all over the town and calling Eragon's name, but there are quite a few people calling for me as well. They look worried, and I can't help but feel sorry for them. I look round the place fondly. Soon, we are out of Carvahall. It says in the books that the farm is about a mile from Carvahall, but it feels like its 3 miles. I am worn out by the time we get to Eragon's farm, and its freezing. Under any other circumstances, I'd start a snowball fight, but it is too cold to even try to move. Eragon next to a mound of snow, but I suddenly realise that it is planks of wood! This must be Eragon's farm! You would never guess that this was once the main farmhouse and home for Eragon.

The sound of wings makes all of our heads snap up and a bright, shimmering blue flies over our heads, landing close to Eragon. The resounding blast was more than I expect, the snow was thrown up, into our eyes, but at least it muffles the sound of her landing. I gasp. Saphira is nothing less than a huge shimmering jewel. Her talons are huge, her scales tantalizing and her roar shakes the trees from their foundations.

"Welcome Saphira," I say and bow. "It is indeed an honour to meet you in person." Brom bows as well, twisting his hand over his sternum. I hold still as Saphira sniffs both Brom and me. I am terrified. Here is a legend, a beast that could kill even a lion or a bear faster than you could say _Oh look! A dragon! _But, I remind myself that this is no ordinary dragon. This dragon fights evil. This dragon is powerful. This dragon is pure glory with wings and a conscience. I am honoured to be in her presence.

_I have seen no humans except from Eragon and Garrow when he was hurt,_she says, curiously. _You really are weird creatures. _Brom lifts his hand up and Saphira lowers her head. Slowly and gently, Brom laid his palm on her brow. The reaction is instantaneous. Saphira jerks back as if she has had an electric shock. Her tail swishes from side to side and her body goes rigid. Eragon looks at her, concern on his face.

"I'll have to pick up my bow," he says. "Wait here."

Soon after, Eragon emerges from the house with a bow and a quiver full of arrows, most of which are broken, and a small pack. Eragon strings the bow and at a gesture from Brom, offers him the bow. Brom pulls back on it in a practised smooth movement, saying, "It takes a strong hand to pull that."

Eragon passes the bow to me and I pull, marvelling at how brilliantly it was carved and how well it bent. I can't pull it as well as Eragon or Brom, reminding me how much I needed to learn and do.

"We need somewhere to stay," Eragon says. "I have somewhere in mind."

Saphira takes off and I feel relived.

We are walking for an hour when Brom slips behind.

"What do you know about me?"

"Quite a lot." I say evasively. When Brom's stare doesn't waver, I say, "I know who your wife is and your son, I know who formed the Varden, what the colour of your dragon was, and the name of your Riders sword."

Brom looks surprised to say the least. "Do you know about the Varden?"

"I know about Tronjheim, Farthen Dûr, the Twins, Ajihad, Nasuada, Jeod and who the traitors are."

"Really?" asked Brom, his eyes alight. "Who is it?"

"You might not believe me, but it is the Twins.

"Of course," breathed Brom. He gives me a look.

"You could be the greatest weapon in the Varden," Brom tells me. "You could counter every move Galbatorix makes. Ajihad needs you."

"Don't think I know it," I mumble. Brom laughs, but he is cautious. "I wonder whether I should remove some of your memories. If Galbatorix knows of your knowledge, you could become a dangerous weapon for him."

"No," I say flatly. "I know many more things that could help the Varden. Not the least to mention that if I don't help, Ajihad will be dead along with you."

"I die?"

"The Ra'zac kills you. I can help that to be avoided. The Varden needs you, as does Eragon."

"Ah, you told me that. I am flattered," replies Brom.

A smile touches my lips. "If you see it flattery, then do so. I see it as truth though. Eragon almost kills himself at several points because he forgets or ignores the rules of magic. We don't need you dead; we need you alive and well."

"I prefer myself alive."

"I think I do as well."


	7. Amongst the Brambles

**Chapter 7**

**Amongst the Brambles**

We stop at a well-concealed bramble.

Saphira lands beside them tilting her head. Eragon nods at her, and she slipped into the bramble. Twigs protest and snap as she enters. Brom looks around in interest. "Does anyone else know of this?"

"No, I found this when we first moved here. It took me a week to dig to the centre and another week to clear out all the dead wood."

Brom makes no reply; instead, he sits down and looks at the red squirrels chattering angrily at the invasion, but when they disappear, he stares at Saphira with increasing intensity. Eragon lights a fire, puts a pot over it, and sets it to boil. When the water starts to bubble, Eragon picks up a lump of meat and throws it into a pot with a lump of salt.

"Do you want some carrots as well?" I ask. Eragon tilts his head on one side, but acquiests. Brom looks puzzled. "We haven't the time to plant them and there are no carrots here. So how do you intend to bring carrots to the table?"

"Like this," I think of the carrots that my mum had pulled out of the vegetable box in the kitchen in a high, long passageway, too long and wide to be called a cupboard. I summon the carrots; a smooth sensation of well-practiced transporting floats me away. I hold out my hand and the carrot appears. Brom utters a cry and his expression becomes one of fear. But I only saw Brom's fingers gripped the pommel of his sword, drawing it a full inch out of the sheath.

"Don't be afraid," I say. "I'm here to help you."

Brom seems to calm down. A minute or two later, he relaxes, but it is still seems like ages before he says,

"How did you do that?"

"Its very complicated, and even I don't know the entire process."

"What _do _you know?"

"Do you believe in other worlds?"

"I don't know."

I hesitated. "I don't know how else to tell you Brom. There _are _different worlds, worlds where you are not real, but just a book. What does the name Christopher Paolini mean to you?"

"Now you mention it, it seems to strike a familiar chord, but I'm not sure what this has to do with your _abilities._"

"In my world, he is your creator. He is your author. I have no reason why I was brought here, but I've read your books and that is how I know what is to come. And now, I control the objects that are in that world and can bring them over here."

Brom looks quite amazed and repulsed at the same time. "We're books?"

"Yes."

"And you control basically every object in your world?"

"I can transport them over to this world, yes."

"But can you manipulate them?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I haven't tried."

"Try it now," suggested Brom.

I cast my mind around for something to do with them. I decide to multiply the carrot. I seize the carrot lying dejectedly on the floor and think with all my might about the carrots could multiply from them. My mind could focus on it for milliseconds, but always snaps back to the hungry look on Eragon and Brom's face. Instead of ignoring them, I close my eyes tight and focus harder. I must have stayed there for at least five minutes before I found the focus. As soon as everything else was obliterated from my focus, I found an urge to multiply it, like with summoning and banishing. I follow the urge and, but it remained exceedingly difficult to concentrate on all 3 carrots that I am trying to multiply. I hear a clank of metal and it disturbs my concentration, but I am already multiplying the carrot, nothing can stop me now.

I open my eyes as I sense the multiplication has worked. Two carrots are the exact replicas of the first. The other is half carrot, half black mould. Brom looks at me with interest.

"I think the problem is that it would require an extraordinary amount of concentration to produce even 2 carrots. I think you were wise to start off with something simple."

There was an uncomfortable silence. The stew is still simmering and I watch Saphira, as she tastes the air around the stew. Eragon nods at Saphira, taking the hint. The meat was served. I eat ravenously, aware that this might be my last meal for some time, or even at all. I have no idea when I am going back. I mention this with Brom, and he nods.

"I agree. But here is a theory," Brom puffs on the pipe. "When does the book stop?"

"I can't tell you exactly yet," I hesitate. "But not for some years."

"I have a hunch that the ways you could return are a; you transport yourself back, or b; when the book ends."

"Good theory. But I will not leave you. I've been called here, and the only reason I can think of is to help you."

There is a pause and Brom dips his head

"Why do you want to travel with me?" asks Eragon.

Brom's eyes twinkle. "I have invested an interest in keeping you alive."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"To put it bluntly, I am a storyteller and I happen to think that you would make a fine story. You are the first Rider to exist outside of the king's control for over 100 years. What will happen? Will you perish as a martyr? Will you join the Varden? Will you kill King Galbatorix? All fascinating questions. And I will be there to see every bit of it, no matter what I do."

I can see a stern look forcing its way through Eragon, but also confusion.

"That may be, but how can Kiera and you talk to Saphira?"

Brom's hand dips into his pocket and he adds some more tobacco to his pipe.

"Very well, if its answers you want, it'll be answers you get although they might not be to your liking."

He got up and brought a large pack to the fire. He pulled out a long thin object wrapped in cloth.

"Zar' roc," I whisper. Brom looks up, startled.

"Know you the history of Zar' roc?"

"I don't know the entire history, but yes, I know who owned it."

A pressure on my mind suddenly throws me into panic as I concentrate on the carrot that I am holding. At a slight shake of Brom's head, I recognize the consciousness as Brom's. I let down my barriers, warily allowing Brom into my mind, but sealing off all of my memories, leaving him nowhere to go inside my mind. I don't want anyone inside my head, and I'm wary, as it is to let a trusted friend inside.

_Don't tell Eragon. I don't want to alienate him by telling him whom the sword belonged to._

_Brom…_I trail off, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but I soon regain the strength to say what must be said.

_There will come a time when you want to conceal from Eragon that you are his father. You will make Saphira swear in the Ancient Language not to tell him. May I offer a suggestion?_

_Yes?_

_Don't make Saphira swear. There will come a time when Eragon will think that Morzan is his father. _

_Why? _Brom's shock is so plain; he doesn't bother to hide it from me.

_Morzan had a son, Murtagh. If things proceed, and I don't interfere, Murtagh will be first a friend, then an enemy, and hurt Eragon both physically and emotionally. May I offer a suggestion?_

_Yes?_

_When we get to the Varden…if you survive, tell Eragon straight away. I don't want to lie or conceal anything from him but neither do I want to tell him without your permission. That responsibility definitely falls to you._

There was a pause and I sensed an overwhelming pressure on Brom.

_I can help. I am no more than a young girl in a strange world, but I _do _have power and I intend to use it for good. I will help you wherever possible. _

I return to myself to find Eragon looking at Zar' roc. The sheath was a soft red, revealing the colour of men's blood it had spilled. A huge ruby was set into its pommel, and as Eragon drew the sword, I marvelled at the colour and the brilliance of the sword. The colour didn't stop moving on any part of the sword. Eragon wondered at it for a few moments and slipped it back into its sheath and offered it to Brom.

"How did you get it?"

"It doesn't matter. Needless to say that it cost me a series of adventures and nasty injuries. Keep it. You have more of a claim to it than I do, and when this is all done, I think you will have need of it."

I looked at Eragon's shocked expression as he took it back. "It is a princely gift. Thank you."

He pointed to a symbol. "What is this?"

"That is the Rider's personal crest," Brom said.

"Anyone can talk to Saphira with proper training," I say as Eragon opens his mouth to talk. He looks surprised but I can tell he is getting used to it.

Brom nodded. "And it doesn't mean anything if they do. I know more about dragons and their abilities than almost anyone alive, and although I am sure that Kiera knows quite a bit, I bet doesn't know why, for example, fireweed calms the dragon's digestion."

"No, I just know that it does," I agree.

"So, on your own, it could take years. With me, I can shorten that time. But how I know that, I will keep to myself as much as I can." I get the implied meaning and suddenly feel embarrassed about knowing the secrets that Brom strives to protect. Saphira snakes her head around to Eragon's side, looking at Zar' roc. Eragon draws the sword and Saphira settles the point of her nose on the tip, and the whole blade seems to waver in and out of view, like disturbed water on a calm shore. Eragon sheathes it, a worried look on his face.

"That's what I'm talking about," Brom says, lifting an eyebrow. "Dragon's make things happen. They constantly amaze you. Things happen around them that are impossible anywhere else. Some say that the dragons themselves do not know the full extent of their abilities. Sometimes, it seems that they are linked with the land so they can overcome great obstacles. And, like what Saphira did illustrates my point, there is much you don't know."

"Do you know about the strangers?"

Brom recounts everything. I wince when Brom and Eragon raise their voices in argument about how Brom knows this.

"Can I just add, Eragon," say, after everything has cooled down, "that in the book, the Ra'zac kill Brom, and he is more powerful than you know at this stage. So be careful, they are very, very dangerous enemies."

"Do I kill them?"

I hesitate. "Eragon, you do kill them, but right now, it would be unwise to track them."

"Why?"

"Do you have a map?"

Both males shake their heads.

"I'll use mine."

I summon _Eragon_ again and skip to the map. I try the hardest I can. If this goes wrong, it may be disastrous. I try to manipulate the map, and when I open my eyes and the cities and towns of Du Weldenvarden and the Beors are blanked out, including the dwarven outpost of Hedarth. I'm getting better, but every now and then, splotches of ink cover the map.

"You're hiding something on this map, aren't you," asks Eragon. I nod. "You can see it later, but now, too much knowledge, too fast."

I point to Helgrind, near Dras-Leona. "This is where the Ra'zac will go."

"We'll go too then!" Eragon exclaims.

"No," I say. "That would be far too dangerous. The King is due to arrive there soon. But, in the story, after Brom dies, you rescue the elf."

_Which elf would this be?_Brom again.

_Arya._

_Have you told Eragon about her involvement with Saphira?_

_Yes,_I admit. _Ignorance is more of a barrier than knowledge although some knowledge should not be presented to him yet._

Brom pauses, considering. _It's not how I like to do things, but I see no harm in doing so._

"So where is this elf?" Eragon asks.  
>"Gil'ead. She is about to die. And, she has important information that can keep the Varden alive."<p>

"Do you know what this is?"

"I can only speculate. I do not know for sure."

"And you are suggesting…?"

"You're not serious!" Brom exclaims. "Risk the last Dragon Rider in existence in order to rescue one elf?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet? I should throw you out! If you were not an iota less valuable to the Varden, I'd kill you right now for that statement!"

Both Eragon and I shiver.

"You have no idea what is at stake. Galbatorix is going to go there soon to pry her secrets from her. Everything about the Varden, it location, its weaknesses, and Ellesmera's is about to be discovered. And with it, comes the end of the rebellion. Even if that doesn't happen, the least that will happen is that everything I know will change and so will our advantage over Galbatorix."

Brom looks at me, askance.

"I understand; we cannot let that happen. Very well, we will go to Gil'ead and I will rescue the elf."

"And die trying," I say. "Brom, the elf is guarded by a Shade, Durza. He surpasses you in everything you have. He would toy with you and kill you like a cat does a mouse."

"There must be a way," Eragon says. "Saphira? Any ideas?"

_No. I have no doubt that Gil'ead would be guarded. Nor could I let you be captured._

"Could we not continue on the course of events?"

"Yes. But that would be very, very risky. Any change, however minor, might disrupt the whole course of events. And Eragon would be captured."

"I can deal with that."

_I cannot._

"It might be the only way." I look up, surprised. It was Brom that spoke. "But I do not think so," he continued. "We just need to avoid the Shade and I can get her out of there."

_Do you have a spell that could alert you if the Shade was coming?_

_Maybe._I sense gratitude that I do not discuss magic within earshot of Eragon.

"We cannot decide tonight. Tomorrow we will continue on course as usual. Where do we go?"

"Yazuac."

"Yazuac?"

"Yes. Brom, will I need a weapon? I'd feel awful if I was staying out of fights just because I didn't have one."

Brom considers this. "What would be ideal?"

"A sword really."

"I'll see if we can scavenge one if we are forced to murder someone. Or steal it."

"I'd feel better stealing," I admit. "I really don't like the idea of killing someone to get a weapon."

"It might be the only option. I am sure that there is death in our future. Is that right?"

"Yes," I sigh. "And although I want to accompany you, I really don't feel comfortable about it."

Brom comes round beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you think that because I or Eragon have a weapon in our hands and can kill in an instant we are greater? Do you think because of your abilities, you are greater? We are all determined because of who we are, not what we do, although that can shape us."

"I'm still not sure that I can handle it." I confess and suddenly every worry pours out.

"I'm in a strange world, with only books to guide me, with strange things happening, and now I'm forced to aid people slaughter each other like cattle. Does that make me good or great or mighty? Who am I to determine who lives or dies?"

Tears are pouring down my face now. I don't hold them back.

"I want to help, I really do. But I have so many fears and doubts about this. I'm not sure I can handle it!"

Eragon is by my side as well and Saphira touches my brow. Some measure of strength and courage flow into me mentally and suddenly, I'm not afraid of her anymore. Brom dabs my cheeks with a handkerchief.

"This life now is your life unless you return, which is quite understandable if you want to. You feel that you are responsible for what is to come. Remind yourself that you are not justice itself, merely a tool of justice. Dragons lie on the edge of extinction – who will help them? Saphira? Yes. Eragon? Yes. Me? Possibly, if I live through and past my day where I die. But you as well Kiera. You can help and you will help, because you care. And no matter how bad you feel, that will drive you, whatever the circumstances."

I feel stronger now. Ready for anything. Brom is right. My feelings only affect justice in Alagaësia.

"I will fight," I say and Brom nods. "You are stronger than you know," he says. "And you can help."

"Brom? Eragon? Its time you knew my real name," I say hesitantly. "In my world, we have three names, our first name, a middle name, and a surname. I have used my middle name up till now."

"My name…my real name…is Emily Kiera Harley."

Afterwards, I conjure everyone sleeping bags and several roll mats each. I make sure to summon the red and black ones for Eragon and Brom as they are the warmer ones, but reserve my light blue one for myself. My one is just as good as the red ones, and I really like it.


	8. Leaving

**Chapter 8**

**Leaving**

I wake as Eragon shakes my shoulder and I see Brom leaning over the pot. It is bitterly cold and I rub my hands together. When breakfast is served, I bolt it down.

"Why don't you try and multiply the carrots again?"

I try, and this time, succeed in making three adequate carrots, although they are less quality than the two perfect ones I made last time, although the third isn't covered in mould. Brom nods and we take a carrot and eat it. The warmth burns my tongue at first but I know better than to wait. Afterwards, Eragon spreads the hides out and I stand back as Brom makes the saddle and checks it out on Saphira.

Dinner was made soon afterwards and I attempt to conjure up a tasty shepherd's pie from my memories. It sort of works, but I forget the plate and my accuracy was off as well, so the shepherd's pie lands on a poor squirrel's head. I try again, and soon realise that conjuring something my mind thinks is two items is really hard, let alone getting it to appear where I want. Brom offers me the pot to get it to appear in, and this time, it works. We split it into 3 and eat a section. Mum always cooks loads so we have plenty. Brom and Eragon send their compliments to the chef in the other world, and I offer to be the waiter next time.

"You're really useful, you know?" Eragon grins at me. "You could supply anything we need."

"We have to go careful with this though," Brom warns. "This isn't magic, but it doesn't mean it's any less dangerous. It could still take its toll."

"I know, but I kind of feel like its okay to use," I reply. This isn't a lie. It just feels so right every time I use it. It's me. It's the package deal in this crazy world.

Brom and Eragon discuss Garrow, and I excuse myself, feeling uncomfortable. I could have saved Garrow. I might have thought of something that could have saved him.

_No Emily! Garrow is dead. Nothing you could have done could have saved him. You don't even know what the antidote to Sethir Oil looks like even in this world._

I am determined to keep on thinking that.

"We're going to need horses."

"Maybe you two do, but I have Saphira."

Brom shook his head. "There isn't a horse alive that can outrun a dragon. We need to stick together."

"You'll have to buy them," warned Eragon. "I don't have the money, and I don't want to steal them."

Brom smiles and starts to talk to Eragon about the dangers of the Ra'zac. Eragon listens attentively, and so do I.

"Enough of this talk," Brom says, after he finishes his speech. "It's late and we can talk tomorrow." Eragon and I nod and we get some rest.

Brom was awake after I got up and Eragon was in bed. I looked out over the semi-real landscape.

"Do you know how to ride?"

"I can jump, trot, walk, canter but I've never tried to gallop. I have a feeling I can learn though."

"How? You're so…"  
>"Different? I guess I am. We had riding stables back in my world. The best cared for horses and we were taught how to ride. We haven't been for a long time though, but I reckon I can still do it."<p>

"Good. That should be sufficient for what we are about to do."

"But Brom, you won't have enough money for Cadoc, Snowfire _and _the horse I'll have to ride!"

"Cadoc and Snowfire? I take it that they're the horses we are to ride. What are they like?"

"Cadoc is a light bay horse and Snowfire is the finest pure white stallion. The man, Haberth will also try and sell you a roan, which you won't be so sure of, but I can take that if you want."

"I'll have to see them. As accurate as your descriptions may be, I can count on the fact that the horses will have to be the best of the best."

I nod. "I understand."

I summoned a pizza and we tucked in. Neither Eragon nor Brom seemed surprised by the meal. They revealed that they had pizza too, but never with cheese or mushroom or pastry quite like my one.

Saphira wore the saddle and they made a pack. Just before we left, Eragon presents me with a wonderfully carved bow, a set of arrows and a quiver.

"I took Roran's old quiver but the bow and arrows I had to leave behind. I carved the arrows and the bow as best I could though, and the bowstring should last a while-" his voice is cut off as I give him a huge hug.

"Thank you."

"No problem." Eragon seems flustered and stammers his thanks back. "Glad to be of service."

The arrows are excruciatingly sharp, and I am careful to handle only the shaft.

"I might have to have some practise," I grin. "But this is the best present ever. Thank you so much."

"I'll see if I can get you a sword though, Emily," Brom says, examining my wonderful gift. "A good bow is all very fine and well, but there is nothing like a good bit of steel in your hand when you're facing an enemy."

We return towards the farm, but veer away before it comes into sight. I look lovingly towards Carvahall, the one place I felt I belonged. I notice Eragon is looking in the same direction, and I know that he too is pining for his home.

Saphira swooped over to the Spine and circled one and twice before dipping down out of view. I felt nervous with her gone. If an enemy attacked she could not be able to come to our aid. We would have to rely on ourselves in the day.

Eragon is a master tracker. He can tell how long ago the Ra'zac had been just by looking at the prints! He tries to teach me the basics of tracking, but although I am okay, I still marvel at his skills. I notice trickles of red down Eragon's trousers and I wonder whether he is feeling it. I pay attention to the lecture that Brom is giving to Eragon about dragons and chip in with a fact whenever necessary. Brom's ring is flashing on his hand. I think of the mountain of energy inside it and I shiver.

"Who was the warrior who owned Zar'roc?" asked Eragon.

"He was a mighty warrior," said Brom. "He was much feared in his time and he held great power."

"What was his name?"

"I'd rather not say." Eragon insisted.

"I don't want to keep you ignorant, far from it, but certain knowledge would only prove dangerous and distracting right now."

I nod. "Eragon, I know what you're thinking, but if Brom keeps something from you, it is not because he wants to talk in riddles, it is because he knows what a hindrance that knowledge would be to you. I promise I will tell you one day."

Brom looks more comfortable with the hints I am giving Eragon now. I realise that they are both getting used to it, and are gradually starting to accept me.

We found a place to stay for the night. I conjured up a spaghetti bolognaise from my Mum's kitchen and this time, Brom and Eragon were quite interested.

"It's so different from what we eat," commented Eragon, looking at the spaghetti. He prods the surface with a finger, and plunges a fist in to get a handful of food. "But really messy when you do eat it!" He adds after he tries to shovel the food from his fist into his mouth.

"Whoops!" I giggle. "Almost forgot the cutlery!" I summon a knife and fork one at a time. My accuracy is getting better, they land slap bang on the bowls.

Suddenly me, Eragon and even Brom laugh.

I watch Brom as he whittled three sticks. Suddenly he throws one to Eragon, who catches it, and one to me, and I drop it.

"First Eragon," Brom orders. "Then Emily!"

I watch as they circle round the fire and suddenly, with a blast of energy, Brom charges, swinging his stick with near-lethal accuracy. Eragon sees it coming and tries to parry but it is obvious that he is outmatched. Brom's stick smashes into his ribs and Eragon staggers a few steps. A brief look of concern flits across Brom's face but Eragon lunges forwards and it is lost in the whirling of sticks, too fast to follow. Suddenly, Eragon collapses, dropping his stick. Brom picks up a pan of melted snow water and splashes it across Eragon's face.

As soon as he makes sure Eragon is all right, he beckons to me. I reluctantly take up my stick and stance and wait for Brom to attack. He comes at me, aiming for the knee. I yelp and swing my stick down to block it. My hands seem to move of their own accord. "Good reactions!" exclaims Brom. His stick reverses its path and cracks me on the arm. He isn't gentle. I step forward, at the same time, whipping the stick towards Brom's leg. He swings his stick down to meet it and Brom's eyes narrow in concentration as he forces back my stick and, once he has an opening, he raps my leg so hard I fall over.

We settle down to sleep and I bet Brom and Eragon thought it was comfortable, but I was used to double beds with extra thick mattresses. It would be almost impossible to summon such a complex load of items, so I summoned my sleeping bag and Nanuk and I get in. I feel as though Brom has almost beaten me to death. I roll over and hiss as I touch onto a bruise. I shift myself again, but sleep comes far too late and the morning comes far too soon.


	9. The Horses

**Chapter 9**

**The Horses**

I wake up, and try to move. I groan as I realise that the previous day of sparring has completely battered me to pieces. I banish my sleeping bag and force myself to wake up. Saphira yawns and stretches like a cat and I can't help being a little bit envious of her. Eragon is already up and he moves very stiffly. I hand him a bowl that I catch falling and make one for myself. I'm getting good at this. Brom "ahems" and I hand him a bowl as well. Then, I make Choco Hoops, milk, and spoons appear in quick succession. We eat breakfast and just to fill ourselves up afterwards, I make a few loaves of bread appear and as I start falling through the air, a plate emerges underneath them and catches them. I grab a loaf and Eragon wonders aloud as it has been toasted. "It's nice," I assure him. "Eat it." Eragon does, tasting the toast.

"Its much better than ordinary bread. When we want warm bread, we roast it on a fire, but the top layer is often black and hot while the inside is cold."

I stand up and shiver. I grasp Eragon's bow and string it, slipping it in the quiver with the arrows. I shoulder the pack that I conjured to help Eragon and Brom shoulder the weight, although now, with food and drink sorted with me as well as a few other things, we have less weight than if Eragon and Brom do when they were on their own. At least, that what Eragon tells me.

We reached Therinsford. Before we entered it, Brom looked sideways at me. "Anything we should know before we trundle in there?"

"No. Bridge keeper will charge you as you go over the bridge, but the price will be steep. I advise you to do what you'd normally do as it will help with the horses. The Ra'zac passed this way. They stopped to pick up horses and galloped out of Therinsford. The horses are in a large barn at the edge of Therinsford, and I'd suggest we try and find it first before we ask any locals."

"Will Roran be there?" I turned. Eragon spoke almost in a whisper.

"I don't know," I say, equally quietly. "But if we stay on track, you won't meet him." Eragon visibly relaxes.

We go onto the bridge and a man comes, blocking our way. He is so big and ugly; he could be mistaken for a small ogre.

"You c'n stop right there. This's my bridge. Gotta pay t' get over."

"How much?" asked Brom, resentfully. He pulled out a purse, although it isn't like any I've ever seen. The man obviously fancies his chances and says, "Five crowns."

I have no idea what crowns are or how much they're worth, but by Eragon's face, I can tell how unfair the rip-off is. I whisper in his ear, "Wait and see."

The man notices me whispering and says, "you cud be sold a' an auction as soon as she came on show. Tell y' wat," he decides, turning to Brom. "Sell the girl t' me and I'll see you're well paid and cha' get o'er bridge for free. How 'bout that?"

I feel a shot of fear and I stumble backwards. Eragon grasps my hand and I feel some measure of courage.

"I'm afraid, sir, that I cannot afford to sell her. My nephew is engaged to her and has promised to marry when she is old enough." I am glad Brom trusts me enough to do that.

The man frowns. "Kay."

Brom nods and takes a step forwards, but stumbles and grabs the gatekeeper's arm. Even though I know what he is doing, it's impossible to tell.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Sorry," apologises Brom. I close my eyes for a brief second, and when I open them and look behind me, a portion of my savings are scattered on the floor underneath the man. My plan works as in the story, he gives a yell of surprise and disappointment, but here, he only grunts.

A little way into town, Eragon exclaims quietly, "What did you do to him Brom?"

Brom turns around and shushes him swiftly and shows him the sparkling money.

"You cut his purse!"

"It held a surprising amount," Brom said, pocketing it with a small wink. "He should know better to keep it all in one place."

We pass a small boy, running between houses and I can see Brom fighting his instinct to act. I realise how hard casting off your fate can be.

It wasn't hard, finding the barn. I don't know why Brom had to ask for directions. The double doors were open and Brom led the way in, but just before we did, he whispered to me, "Don't give away any clue of your…_abnormability. _Okay?"

"I promise," I say, and it seems to be enough for Brom.

Horses occupy the two rows of stalls, the far end with tack. Near the tack, stands a man, well muscled, grooming Snowfire. He looked up beckons to us. We approach and Brom remarks, "That's a beautiful animal."

"Yes, indeed. His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." I see a flash of recognition flit across Brom's face from my description, but hides it so quickly, I wonder if I saw it at all. He offers a rough handshake to all of us and waits politely for our names. When we do not react, he enquires, "Can I help you?"

"We need three horses with a full set of tack for all of them. The horses will have to be fast and tough; we'll be doing a lot of travelling."

Haberth considers our request. "I don't have many animals like that, and the ones I do aren't cheap."

Snowfire nudges Haberth and Haberth fondles it a bit more before tying it to a ring in on a stall and he goes along the tack wall, pulling various bits and pieces off the hooks. Soon, there are three identical piles in the middle of the barn.

My fingers twitch as Haberth disappears into a stall, leading a light bay out and tying it to a ring. I recognise the horse from the descriptions in the book. This will be Eragon's horse, Cadoc. He comes out with another two horses, a roan one and a pure white one. It looks like an Arab, but I can tell that it is a lot sturdier, although none of the elegance has been removed; leaving a horse that takes your breath away. I move closer to the silvery one, petting its neck and whispering to it quietly. As I move my fingers through its short silky coat, the horse lowers its head and nudges me gently. I smile and step back, admiring the horse.

"He's a grand horse," I tell Haberth. Haberth grins. "Not half as fine as my Snowfire though. And 'he' is a she."

I blush, embarrassed, but Haberth takes a shine to me. "You like horses?"

"All my life. Although I've never actually ridden one before, Uncle knows and I'm sure he can teach me." I step backwards, closer to Brom and Eragon.

"What do you think?" asks Haberth, his gaze switching from me to Brom.

"The silver and the bay, yes," says Brom. He moves closer to the roan, inspecting it closely. "I'm not too sure about this one though."

"There are some good legs on him."

Brom hesitates and replies slowly, "What will you take for Snowfire?"

Haberth looks fondly at Snowfire, who is waiting patiently. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred – I'm hoping to sire a whole line from him.

"But," persists Brom. "If you were to sell him, how much would it cost?"

I notice Eragon's sharp look of shock, which he quickly hides. I realise that Eragon has made contact with Cadoc.

"Two hundred crowns and no less," smiled Haberth, with confidence. Brom starts to count out his money, then gives up and pours the contents of his purse onto a table.

"Will this do?"

A long, worrying silence followed. Far more deafening than Motorhead being played live and although I've never heard them (and I really don't want to either) Mum said she couldn't hear for three days afterwards.

Haberth sighed. He looked at Snowfire, and then to the money, and then, back to Snowfire again.

"I suppose so. I did take a real shine to your girl though. She's a good heart."

"I've come to the same conclusion," smiled Brom and looks at me comfortingly. _We did it, _his gaze said.

We load the horses with the tack.

"I'll take Snowfire," says Brom, climbing into the saddle. He looks at me. "Your lies nearly had _me_ fooled back then. Can you ride or can't you?"

"I can," I say, putting a foot in the silvery horse's stirrup. I grab the reins in one hand and the other side of the saddle in the other and haul myself up. "Although I'm used to ponies, I can cope with you, hey girl." I reach down to pat her neck.

"Don't get too attached to her," warns Brom, and squeezes the horse's sides. Snowfire moved off into a trot, heading for the far side of Therinsford. Eragon goes next and finally, I squeeze my horse's flanks and move off after him.

We stop outside Therinsford to inspect the horses and discuss the day's events. Eragon enquires about the contact. Brom is mulling over his map.

"Where will we go next?" asked Brom. I knew straight away. Every morning and before we went to bed, I studied the book. Now was the first time I had read it to study it, not because I wanted to escape. _Every once in a while might be okay, _I thought. _But when you _need _it, that is when it becomes dangerous. Then you spend the rest of the day not existing, except in your own head._

"We go to Yazuac. 


	10. Wise Words

**Chapter 10**

**Wise Words**

We pass the mountain that Eragon calls Utgard and Eragon hisses to Brom, "What is that?"

I look up and see a crumbling tower perched on top of it, with no visible means of getting there. I recall all I know about the tower. But before I open my mouth, Brom says,

"It was an outpost of the Riders – one that has lasted since it was founded. That was where Vrael took refuge and where, through treachery, he was found and defeated by Galbatorix. When Vrael fell, the area was tainted. Edoc'sil, Unconquerable, is the name of this bastion, for the mountain is so steep, none may reach the top unless they fly. After Vrael's death, the commoners called it Utgard, but it has another name, Ristvak'baen – the 'Place of Sorrow.' It was known as such to the last Riders before they were killed by the King."

It takes hours to skirt Utgard and Edoc'sil, but after a long while, we top a slight hill and see what is beyond. Both Eragon and I gasp. A huge, a tan plain stretches out before us, the colour of dead grass.

"I knew it was big," I say. "But not _that _big!"

"This plain covers the heart of the Empire," Brom says with a snort. "Of course it is big! But all we need to concentrate on now is crossing it."

"What do we do now?" Eragon asks. Brom snorts again. "We're going to cross it. But now, we may as well get a nice early night. It's going to take all of our strength to get down the hill to the plain and make the crossing."

"How big is it?"

"Two to three days, to a fortnight, depending on which direction you go. We aren't going to find many travellers here."

Brom turns Snowfire around and guides him further back, towards the Anora River. As he reaches the water's edge, he dismounts, followed by Eragon and me.

"You should name them," says Brom as he pickets Snowfire. Eragon is in the middle of helping me to picket my horse. I consider the names. None spring to mind. Then I think of my own world, my books, and my old life. All of a sudden I know the perfect name. I straighten up and place a hand on my horse's neck. She softly whinnied in response and put her head close to mine.

"I name you Linden," I told the horse. "After my own world, and my own Capital, London."

Linden is also a name in one of my favourite books, Rebel. Brom nods and switches his gaze to Eragon. He also laid a hand on the bay. He smiles at me. "I would call you Emily, but you're a boy. And Brom doesn't suit you either. So I name you Cadoc. It was my grandfather's name so bear it well."

Brom nods and untacks Snowfire and I do the same with Linden. Although I have no experience picketing horses, I help Eragon to undo Cadoc's girth and let him eat the grass. Saphira lands and the horses give a whinny, this time of fright, but they regard her warily and go back to feeding. I look after Linden nervously, but she seems to be okay.

Dinner was a dose of baked beans and eggs. After Brom started the fire up, he came to sit next to me.

"Tell me," he says. "What is your world like?"

"We are more high tech than your world is," I say. I regard him warily, hoping he doesn't take offence at this. Brom nods, and suddenly I know that he doesn't mind about such petty things.

"We have buildings with so many floors that they touch the skies. We have metal machines that can fly, and machines that go deep underwater without the people inside suffocating. We've actually been off the planet in a space ship as well!"

"Is a space ship a metal machine that sails in the sky?" asks Brom, eyes wide.

"Well, off the planet," I reply.

Brom makes a questioning face, but then Eragon turns to me.

"No wonder you feel out of place here!" exclaims Eragon as he sits beside us. "Do you really have these houses that touch the sky?"

"Yes," I reply, smiling at his reaction.

I summon a photograph of the London Eye, which I visited when I was six for my birthday. The photo emerges in front of him.

"That is called the London Eye," I say. "From the top, you can see miles and miles."

Eragon's eyes open wide and his jaw drops. "You have this in your world?"

"And lots more," I say.

"Hand it over," Brom says to Eragon. "It can't be _that _amazing, so close your mouth," he adds, although his tone is uncertain. But, very soon, Brom's mouth is open like a goldfish as well.

"By the Lost Kings," he gasps. "This is amazing! I've never seen anything like this before! Is this what it is like everywhere?"

"Yes. But don't get too excited," I say glumly. "The cost of this high techyness is that hardly any free areas exist. Our country used to be completely covered in forest. Now, only five percent remains. That's why I was really excited when I came here." I switch my gaze to Brom and Eragon, hoping they understand why I like this place so much.

"And there are laws everywhere, you can't build a house without the government's permission, you can't change the use of your house, you can't carry sharp arrows or knives otherwise you end up in prison. There's no freedom to go as you wish and you never feel like you are making a change in the world."

My unhappiness makes Eragon and Brom fall silent and I pick up the photograph and throw it in the fire.

"I used to think that I would be happy to return home," I say miserably. "But now? I'm not too sure. I feel as if I belong here, but it's my family I miss, not my world. If only there was a way of getting them to live here–" I sit bolt upright. "What if I summon my parents and my brothers and sister here? Then I could live here and not be troubled by my family!"

I prepare to do it when Brom grasps my arm. "Emily, stop." Not asking. Ordering. I shrug him off.

"You don't know what this will do to you, or your family!"

I lower my hands. He's right. If my family was hurt when I try to transport them, I could never forgive myself."

"I'm sorry," I say, and retreat from the fire. I go to Saphira who is awake and watchful. I know she's seen everything but I don't care. I reach for her consciousness and she allows me inside.

_Oh Saphira! I can't bear it!_

_Peace little one. All will be well._

_How can it? Galbatorix, the Urgals, my parents…and now we have to cross the plain! I feel like everything I do is snapping me out of a trance. Something I used to do all the time, although I don't remember what it was. _

_You mean you don't want to remember._

_Of course that's not what I mean! _I am shocked, but I know somewhere that what she said contains a portion of truth. 

I feel Saphira probe at one of my memories. _May I?_

I give my consent and the memory of the last time I saw my dad fills my mind. The row. I try to hide my suffering, but there is nowhere inside the memory to hide it. Thankfully Saphira does not comment on it. I stomp upstairs. Suddenly, the film halts at the bit where I grab a book from the bookcase and flop onto my bed to read it.

_Ah. _

_Ah? Saphira please!_

_You said that everything you do snaps you out of a trace, didn't you?"_

_Yes, I did. What of it._

_You read to escape the real life. And now, you don't have the time to read because your life is taken up with reality. So you can't escape, you can't deal with reality, so you feel completely trapped and hopeless._

This time, it isn't just a portion that I know to be true; it's everything she's said.

_So how do I stop feeling that?_

_Learn to live with reality. Reality is hard Emily, but it is harder if you don't face it every day. _

Already, I'm starting to feel better. I allow myself a small giggle.

_I knew you were wise in the books, Saphira, _I say. _But you are so wise in person that you have enough wisdom to spread to me as well, and I'm a thicko._

_I may be wise, _Saphira responds, humorously. _But I still have no idea what a thicko is that you refer to._

_An idiot, _I reply, chuckling. Soon, both Saphira and I are seeing the funny side of it. I stand up and Saphira snakes her head forwards and gently nudges me back towards the fire.

_Go on Emily. I shall watch you and those pitiful deer animals that you call _noble_ steeds._

I smile at her.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I retreat from the contact although my mind does not close fully. That part of me will never truly be closed till the day I leave, I am sure of that. I love Saphira now, as a friend and councillor, not as a ruler and Queen.

Eragon is already in bed and I see his stick by the fire. Brom is watching me. Although he does not speak, his orders are clear. Reluctantly, I take up the stick and wait for him to join me.

This training session is shorter than the first, but still long enough for me to get battered to pieces. When we stopped, Brom beckoned.

"You were upset earlier. Did you and Saphira talk?"

There was no point in denying it, and no reason to either.

"Yes."

"I know you miss your family," Brom says. "But we need you to stay strong."

"Me? You and Eragon are driving the bus. You get to fight the enemies and battle Shades and here I am, a lump of lard, just getting in your way. You make it fine without me to Teirm."

"Teirm?"

"You find Sethir Oil and Eragon comes up with the idea to check the shipping records, so you go to Teirm."

"Not a bad idea," Brom mused. "Is that where you're leading us?"

"Yes. Roran escapes Palencar Valley and makes his way to Narda with the Ra'zac on his trail. He winds up in Teirm and tries to hire a ship and coincidentally, ends up talking to Jeod." This throws Brom.

"Does he recognise Roran?"

"Not at first. But when Novarell lets slip Gertrude's name, he recognises her name from a description you give. Roran almost kills him, but is surprised to hear him cry, _Garrowson. _So he spares him, but Roran still ends up in a heap of trouble."

"Hmm. I think you are right. It's time to pay Jeod a little visit. Then where?"

"First you get Eragon through the Tuatha Du Orothrim. Then you take him to Tronjheim. And as soon as possible as well."

"Eragon? To Tronjheim? Do you realise how everyone will react?"

"That is why you must train him. Brom, in Yazuac, you will find it pillaged."

"By who?"

"Urgals. No fewer than fifty, no more than a hundred. You will also find two Urgals there. They will attack you and Eragon. Eragon escapes unharmed, but you receive a rather nasty scratch after one Urgal kicks Snowfire and throws you off balance."

"And Eragon? What happens to him? I have a feeling you are not telling the full story."

"Eragon is backed into a dead end and uses _brisingr _to destroy the Urgals with one arrow. He survives, he doesn't become unconscious, but he will feel extraordinarily weak afterwards."

Brom mulls over this.

"I wasn't planning on telling you this; Eragon's survival can hang on magic, and if he can't perform it, then he is in mortal danger."

"You were very foolish not to tell me." Brom thinks some more. Finally he decides.

"I agree. Other any other circumstances, I'd refuse, but I can't. If this all goes to plan, Eragon will learn magic and I will not have a gash."

"What is your plan?"

"Saphira will hover over the town, keeping a lookout, but remaining invisible. If any of us are in mortal danger, she can always help us."

"I doubt Saphira would be very pleased."

"I'll tell her. She trusts me."

"And Eragon? He'll blame me afterwards if anything goes wrong."

"I'll have a word with him afterwards as well. But be very careful Jade. In the story, we survive. You may not. So you need to be protected the most."

I grow sombre for a second.

"Without you, we wouldn't know all of this. And without you, those Twins won't get a good hiding when I return to Farthen Dur." I smile at the humour in his voice.

"But, after dark, from tomorrow, I'll have to teach you mental tricks to keep your consciousness guarded. Can you perform magic?"

"I-I think so. I made a stone move once. And green mist was coming through my fingers."

"Well, I'll tutor you in that as well. Don't tell Eragon yet. I want to see if this works out."

"Very well." I stand up and summon my sleeping bag. Brom lifts an eyebrow.

"I'll have to get you to practise that as well."

"Good night Brom."

"Good night Emily. And just to let you know, while you're here, I regard you as much my daughter as your real father back at your home."

I feel touched by this. I smile and slip into my sleeping bag. I feel a lot more refreshed by talking to Brom.

Morning comes, and I wake. Eragon isn't up yet and I can see Brom sitting by Saphira. I don't interfere.

"Breakfast's ready," I announce, Conjuring the full English breakfast. Brom finishes his mental conversation and comes over to join me. I go over to Eragon and gently shake his shoulder.

"Morning sunshine. Its breakfast time."

Eragon is suddenly up. I laugh and Eragon picks up his breakfast and bolts it down. I stand up and go over to Brom and eat mine. Brom has already finished his. Eragon is moving even more stiffly than before, and so am I. I notice one of his fingers is hot and swollen and I offer him some cream. I summon a pot of Sudo Crème and he applies a small amount to his finger, mounts Cadoc and Brom follows as well. I unpicket Linden, tack her up, and swing myself onto her back. She's still a lot taller than I am used to but I wouldn't have her any other way.

The slope is steep at first and I am afraid that Linden might fall down it. My heart stops every time one of the horses takes a stumble on the loose rocks, but somehow, they always managed to right themselves. There was a rough trail that sometimes helps, but in some places it fades away, leaving us to manoeuvre through the trees. We often have to dismount and guide the horses down. At one point, Cadoc simply refuses to go any lower down, so I leave Linden and helped soothe Cadoc enough so that he would go down. Linden's ears are plastered to her skull and she is sweating, but she seems determined to get down the slope. It took many a solid hour of trekking before Brom orders a rest near the bottom. The slope leaves us breathless, irritable and hot, despite the biting cold. I summon several cans of Coke, but that hardly touches our thirst, so instead, I decide on bottled spring water. I manage to multiply the bottle successfully into three bottles, and we drink so much, I'd think we might burst.

We leave the Anora, as it flows northward, almost back on itself. Brom and Eragon study the trails. Eragon tells me that there are three trails, one heading towards the northern cities, one across the plains, and one south. Brom confirms that the Ra'zac are headed to Yazuac, so we must be careful. Eragon enquires where Yazuac is and Brom replies, "Due east and four days away, if all goes well. It's a small village situated near the Ninor River." He waves a hand towards the Anora. "We'll have to fill up here. We can't expect Emily to provide for us all the way." He smiles, and the smile is genuine.


	11. The Great Plain

**Chapter 11**

**The Great Plain**

I let Linden gulp down the water and I dismount, conjuring up several empty bottles and filling them. They are Lucazade bottles with those fancy non-spill lids, so whenever you squeeze the bottle, water sprays out of them. Eragon and me have a mini water fight with them, fill the bottles up again, and put them in our packs. I climb on Linden and we start across the plain.

The plain looked amazing from back on the hill, but in actuality, I'd rather I was still climbing the slope. The wind blows non-stop, cracking our lips so much, I'm forced to summon several tins of Vaseline and give some to Brom and Eragon. We drink sparingly, but whatever we do drink is quickly absorbed by the thirsty sun, leaving us worse off than when we started. 

We stopped for the night in the open. In any other circumstances, I'd probably conjure a tent so we could sleep in relative safety. But out here, the wind would have picked it up and carried it away, probably injuring one of us in the process. Eragon pulls up a short plant and tries to get it going. He lights the tinderbox over and over again, but every time, the wind blew it out before it had got going. Eragon practically threw the box at Brom in frustration and said, "I can't make it burn, especially in this blasted wind. See if you can get it going: otherwise we'll be cold to the bone by the time we get up in the morning."

Brom looks at the branches, rearranges a few and strikes the flint.

"Let me try." Brom offers me the tinderbox, but I politely refuse and summon a full pack of matches. I strike the side of the box and the match bursts into flames and goes out. I try again, cupping the flame and it licks the branch, but does not catch fire. Eventually, the wind blows it out.

"Have another go Brom," I say. "These matches won't do the trick."

Brom uses the flint. "Brisingr!" he invokes and suddenly, there was a roaring flame.

"There you go, must have already been smouldering inside."

We spar again, but the best I can do is drive Brom back a step, before he darts past my defences and raps me on the kneecap. Brom pits me against Eragon, just to see how well we do. Eragon is sneaky, and he tried a few low swipes, but when I block them, he feints and tries to hit my arm. I parry and crack him on the arm. He gives a bellow and launches at me, stick whipping through the air, and I only just manage to stop him.

_He's strong, _I think desperately. I wonder if I can use his strength against him. Eragon lunges again, and instead of blocking him, I dodge. For a second, Eragon is off balance and that is all I need to disarm his with a quick swipe to his wrist. Eragon dives after the stick-sword, but I manage to hit my stick against his thigh and it sends him sprawling. I put the end of my stick to his collarbone and for a second, nobody moves. Then I withdraw my stick and Eragon stands. Brom comes over. 

"Well done Emily. How did you win?"

"I noticed when provoked, he lunged a lot. If I dodged him, I could catch him as he tried to right himself."

"So you interpreted his weakness, yes?"

"I guess so." Brom smiles.

"Eragon, good match. Heed Emily's words, they will do you much good. Do not be tempted to do anything that jeopardises your balance, no matter the provocation."

Eragon looks slightly dazed but he manages to come over and congratulate me.

"Good match. You are quick."

"Thank you," I reply. "I've never gone against someone so hard before. You are really strong."

"Thank you," Eragon said. "I really must get some sleep now."

"Good night," I say, and Eragon flops onto his bedroll.

"Brom, you said you wanted to do special training with me."

"And I will keep my word."

He pauses for moment, and then tells me, "If anything goes wrong, Saphira will call us."

"Where are we going?"

Brom leads me away from the still-burning fire. About quarter of a mile away, Brom stops and sits down, indicating I do the same.

"I need to know how much mental power you have."

"How will you do that?"

"I will attempt to break into your mind. I will not intrude on your thoughts or memories, but it should give you an idea of how to do it."

I am nervous at this. "Do you give your word that, for tonight, you will not try to access any of my thoughts or memories without my permission unless mine, Saphira's, Eragon's or your life is in danger?"

Brom lifts an eyebrow. "I see you are adamant on this."

"I will do all I can to protect my consciousness," I say. "Do you give your word?"

"Very well, I give my word."

"You know that is not what I mean."

"Eka thorta du illumeo," Brom invokes. I speak the truth. I nod.

"Now, hold an image, sound or thought in your head. When you are ready, tap the ground with your foot."

I fix all my attention on London, the shining wheel, Buckingham Palace…every memory fills my head, along with bittersweet emotions that clog up my heart. I tap the floor and I feel Brom's presence lurking outside.

_Ignore him. Focus on London. London…the Thames, the train ride there, the Underground, that's him isn't it? No! Keep focusing – _

_Too late, _Brom's voice says. _Try concentrating on a poem, or something to recite. Remember, sometimes, you do not have the luxury of being in a situation where nothing distracts you. You must master this. Again, one more time before we move on to other things._

I nod and think of a poem. I recite it over and over again, till I can focus on nothing else. I stop speaking, but inside, I am still reciting the verse. I tap my foot.

_Away away away you must fly,_

_Over the peaks and into the sky._

_Away, away, away you must fly,_

_Never to return to me._

_Away, away, away you must run,_

_Over the hills and into the sun,_

_Away, away, away you must run,_

_Never to return to me._

_Away, away, away, you must sail,_

_Braving wind, rain and hail._

_Away, away, away, you must sail,_

_Never to return to me._

Five minutes later, Brom breaks through when I've exhausted my poem to pieces. He seems pleased.

"You have a very strong mind Emily, I'm impressed. Most people take ages to learn this little trick."

"It helps if you know all the teaching points," I giggle.

"Only, once you know the poem so well you could do it in your sleep, switch to another one, so your mind doesn't become distracted."

"Again?" I enquire. To my surprise, Brom shakes his head. "Not now. You're tired, and this hard work isn't doing you any favours. We'll concentrate on your magic and mind tricks, your conjuring seems to come naturally to you, so you can undertake more difficult activities when you are ready. Your basic skills now will help so I'm not that fussed, although it may be necessary to master your skills before we get to the Varden."

I stand up.

"Thank you Brom."

Brom grunts. "I'm just trying to keep you alive."

"And if anything deserves thanks, that does," I grin.

I fight the cold winds to get back to bed. My snug sleeping bag awaits!

On the second day on the plains, I am disappointed to see that the wind hasn't died down. I knew that it wouldn't but still; I can't believe we have to cross it while it is _this _windy. _It gets worse _I remind myself. I tack up Linden and mount her. She's as uncomfortable as I am, I can tell. Brom mounts Snowfire and Eragon rides close to me on Cadoc.

"Where did you and Brom go last night?"

"Brom had to teach me a few things."

"What things?"

"I can't tell you." Eragon looks more frustrated than angry.

"I hate it when people do that."

"Do what?"

"Keep things from you."

"Trust me Eragon, when the time is right, you'll know everything I know." Eragon seems unsatisfied.

My lips crack even more now; I get through 2 big pots of Vaseline a day. I manage to multiply a Vaseline tub four times, a new high score. I ride close to Cadoc and offer him another pot and he gives me the empty pot.

"This should last you for the rest of the day."

"Thanks," he replies and smiles as I Banish the empty pot. I offer Brom a pot but he has used his more sparingly and he shakes his head. Apart from a small break for lunch in which I was forced to Conjure a roll of cling film to stop the peas from flying off my curry and rice with other bits added. I wait for Eragon to untack and smile as his spoon goes for the curry but is halted by the cling film.

"Get ready to eat," I say, curling my fingers around the edge of the cling film. "Three…two…one…eat!"

I rip off the cling film and Eragon starts eating. I laugh as a pea is blown off the rice and hits him in the eye.

"Note to self, make more meals with peas while on the plain," I giggle. Soon, Eragon is bursting out in laughter despite the miserable wind and Linden has to stick her head in between both of us to stop our hysterical fit.

"Hey! No horses at the table," I say, and lead her over to Cadoc and Snowfire. Linden shakes her mane, but stays put.

It's almost a relief when we start trekking again. Even though the horses are doing most of the work, I still feel a tiny bit warmer when we start moving. The rest of the day is almost unbearable, me and Eragon play I spy while we're at it. A kid's game I know, but anything is better than this wind, even if I did guess that the word was 'plain' six times in a row.

After the sparring, in which Brom gives us the usual amount of care (that is none,) and Eragon settles down, I inform Brom of his questioning.

"Saphira will tell us if he comes after us," Brom reassured me. "Let's see what you've got."

But my thoughts are so far away that in both my magic and my mind blocking skills, I am worse than last time.

"It's a start," grumbles Brom. "Right. What are you getting distracted by?"

"Nothing," I sigh. Brom glares at me.

"Don't give me _nothing. _You've been so far away, you didn't even notice when I spun the pebble around! Or when I broke into your mind and put in a picture of a dancing cow! What are you thinking about?"

Brom's eyebrows come together in a wavy line as he frowns.

"I'm worried about Yazuac. If my plans fail, the Urgals won't just wave goodbye and follow their little troop up the road will they?"

"No. But Saphira will keep watch and not even Urgals could defeat a dragon. I am a good fighter, Eragon is getting better and better by the day, and you know what is going to happen. So what could go wrong?"

"Don't say that," I groan. "Whenever anyone says that, something always goes dreadfully, mind bogglingly wrong. And by the way, the one thing against us in the morning will be weather, so make sure that you're well guarded against showers, really wild gales, and of course, lightning, starting fires."

"You're joking," say Brom. "You mean, the winds that we've had so far?"

"Nope. Mere breezes in comparison to this. So, please be aware, you may have to drag me out of bed tomorrow."

Brom chuckles. "Well, get some rest. According to you, we have a rough day tomorrow, and we need to be prepared."

"Yes sir," I say, saluting him, and ran back towards the warm fire.


	12. Windy and Wet With a Chance of Lightning

**Chapter 12**

**Windy, and Wet, with a Chance of Lightning Bolts**

I wake in the morning with a sense of dread. It's going to be a hard day today. I notice Eragon smiling as he sits round the embers of the fire. At least one of us is happy. All of a sudden I notice that the cold, biting wind has gone. I don't know how I missed it before.

"Finally," he sighs. "No dratted wind."

"Nope," I say. "Today, the weather will be wild gales and a sudden thunderstorms with a chance of lightning bolts igniting fires. Nope. Weather's beautiful."

Eragon gives me a sideways glance. "You're joking right?"

"No. So you better have brought something waterproof or you're gonna get really wet."

Eragon still stares at me. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Enjoying what way too much?"

"You know…knowing things before they happen, even though it looks like the exact opposite."

"Well it's a hard life. There has to be _some _ups. Even if it is predicting the dratted weather."

We saddle up and I can tell straight away that Linden knows something's up. She's tense, not quite quivering, but very skittish. Eragon rides close to me. "Look up there."

I follow Eragon's finger and curse.

The clouds are dark with anger and it seems as if the elements were turned against us. I hear Brom curse.

"That's little more than a shower Emily!" he yells from up front. I yell back, "I didn't know it would be _that _bad!"

_Next comes the wind,_I think to myself.

It was eerily calm, like the moment before something really bad is going to happen. Which of course, it is. We're at the storm front. Still nothing. I take a breath and urge the reluctant Linden forwards. The clouds were twisted and contorted into wild shapes, one even looked like Saphira snarling. I notice Eragon looking up at awe at the roof of the thunderstorm. Then I look ahead. And gasp.

The grass is being flattened in a giant ripple. The wind is coming at us at tremendous speed. Immediately, I yell to Eragon, "Tell Saphira to land!"

Just in case he doesn't hear me, I forward my own mental message to Saphira.

_Saphira! Land now! If that wind catches you, it won't let you go._

_Thanks! I'm landing now. Eragon told me. Just hang on!_

I watch with relief as Saphira lands seconds before the gale. Brom looks behind her and mouths a word, which is lost in the wind.

We trek through the wind, the horses often being blown back a step or two, before a dark front of rain advances on us at terrifying speed.

"What now?" Eragon yells in frustration. I brace myself and wince as the stinging rain hits my face. It soaks me in a very short time, and my clothes could be a flannel if I had anything to wash.

"Lightning!" I yell back, as streaks of yellow electricity cut the sky in half. Every now and then, one would land, igniting a fire, only to be smothered by the rain. So close. Too close.

In the story, that is the end of the day. The storm. The exhaustion. But I saw another side that can't be seen through the stories. The grass is suddenly huge pillars of perfect marble and the day is as vibrant as a lovely summer's day, with the freshness and growth of spring. No other day, before then, or I'm sure, after now, will be as beautiful. At least not visually. In my mind, the storm and the lightning was a small price to pay for the sight of the beautiful world I am in now.


	13. Magic or No Magic?

**Chapter 13**

**Magic or no Magic?**

I get up and move out of the depression we spent the night in. We start the day usually and then Eragon announces that the water bag is empty. Brom didn't seem to mind.

"Yazuac will be there before dark."

Eragon looks sceptical. I suddenly remember a huge water dispenser type bottle that a man was carrying home. A

summon it and a few minutes later, we are riding past more water than we can carry.

"Oh look!" I exclaim. "Water! How convenient!"

Eragon laughs and leaps of Cadoc, taking a long drink. I follow. Linden is no longer big for me, all the ponies I remember riding must have been tiny. Brom has a swig as well and then I have a long drink. The water is cool and refreshing. After we water the horses, we are back to endless plodding. With every step, I grow tenser.

Finally, we arrive within a reasonable distance of Yazuac. Eragon expresses his concern. No dogs barking or people chattering.

"Perhaps we should go round the side. Keep your bows at the ready."

"Stating the obvious," murmured Eragon, but he takes an arrow out of the quiver and the bowstring is eased back slightly and he increases tension on the arrow.

We enter from the other direction. Saphira is hiding somewhere in the air, trying not to be obtrusive. We enter the town and Brom's eyes are flashing. I know he is looking for the Urgals that I told him would come. Brom moves into the centre of the town. I hear Eragon exclaim and I myself utter a cry.

The book describes this as 'a mountain of bodies towering above them of blood soaked corpses' and no wonder! A crow drops out of the sky and summons up the corpses, opting for a pale young one. Both me and Eragon release an arrow at it at the same time. To my surprise, my arrow hits it square in the breast along with Eragon's. The crow flutters out of sight. I can hardly believe this is happening. I have to remind myself that this is actually going on. Obviously, Eragon has no such qualms; he turns away and throws up. I look away and Eragon straightens up.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine," says Eragon. "Who could have done…?"

Brom bows his head. "Those who love the pain and suffering of others. They wear many faces and go by many disguises, but there is only one name for them: evil. There is no understanding it. All we can do is pity and honour the victims."

Brom swings off Snowfire to examine the tracks.

"The Ra'zac came this way…"

_Do I tell him that the Urgals are here?_

_Just follow your instincts. What would you do normally?_

He nods but remains in my mind. I am very disconcerted by this behaviour, but I don't mention it to Brom, who I sense, is deep in thought.

"This wasn't their work. The spear is of Urgal make. A company of them came through here, perhaps so much as a hundred. It's odd; I know of a few instances where they have gathered in such…"

He kneels and examines a footprint, roughly hewn in the soft ground. His eyebrows furrow and he leaps onto Snowfire, urging him on even before he has landed on the stallion's back.

"Ride! Urgals are still here!"

Brom withdraws from my mind, focused and tense.

We gallop as fast as we can to the edge of Yazuac, where I battle relief and disappointment. A few more yards and we'd be out of Yazuac!

I hear a gasp and look behind me. Eragon is up against a wall, Cadoc bolting away from what looks like a hideous monster. Spiral horns are ferociously displayed. The width of the shoulders and the axe in his hand serve a reminder that he is not to be messed with.

"Run! Don't sit there, RUN!" I scream.

The Urgal roars and swings his lethal axe. Eragon ducks the axe with a yelp and turns, getting to his feet, running alongside the house he was flung at and slips into one of the alleyways. Brom has a look of pained concentration on his face and suddenly I understand why.

_Saphira, wait._

I sense untold fury, a barrier of hate, concern and…yes…fear.

_Eragon is in danger! Do not bar my way!_

_Saphira listen to me! If you interfere now, you will stop the course of events and Eragon will not gain his magic! And if he does not gain his magic, he will not be able to fight enemies that we will run into, even with my help! You said you trusted me Saphira. Do you?_

Another Urgal flings himself at Brom, but I loosen an arrow in his direction. It bounces off him but it catches his attention. He glares and advances on me.

"You want land." It is not a question.

"We will get land!"

"You think King Galbatorix can get you land?" Brom's face shows shock at this information. The Urgal's face is twisted in a gross leer, which seems to be the closest you got to amazement when you have as much facial capability as a spanner.

"If you know of that, then you know of everything, and you must be destroyed!"

"But the Varden can offer you land if you join their cause. Much bloodshed on Galbatorix's part can be avoided. Your Herndall will have to make this decision eventually to survive when Galbatorix betrays you."

The Urgal gives a roar of disbelief. "No! The Father will not betray us little _drajil_!"

"Then your _ushnark _will let you have his land once this war is over? Somehow, I doubt it."

"You know our language little one? Maybe you have our stomach for pain too!"

The Urgal lunges, and I duck low over Linden. A sudden rage boils up in me, tense and furious, I yell, "Jierda!"

There is a sharp _crack _and the Urgal falls over, clutching his knees. I suddenly wince at the decrease in my strength and Brom looks at me with concern, but hiding another emotion I can't distinguish. Brom dismounts and with a swipe of his sword, beheads the Urgal.

"Did you mean what you said?" he snaps. "Why did you tell the Urgal that? If he had got away, our plans would be ruined!"

"I'm sorry, but I-"

"Sorry? For that? You will be sorry when we lose our only advantage over Galbatorix! You idiot!"

"I'm not exactly a warrior!" I yell back at him. "I don't have the strength to lob them all the way to Teirm. I was hoping I could distract him and then you could do a little swordplay with him."

"You finished him off all right there," Brom argues. "Why couldn't you have done it sooner?"

"I didn't have time to access the magic!" I retort. "It's all right for you, Rider-"

Brom suddenly clamps a hand over my mouth. Eragon is there, mounted on Cadoc, looking shocked.

"We have to talk."

"Talk while we ride," Brom orders. He pulls himself up onto Snowfire and gallops out of Yazuac.


	14. Arguments

**Chapter 14**

**Arguments**

With a scream of frustration, sapphire wings slice the day apart. I look at her nervously as her eyes, blazing with anger, and focus on me.

"You know what would have happened." Saphira snorts and Eragon and Saphira converse silently.

Eragon's face turns ashen.

"Why Brom?"

Brom answers. "To keep you alive."

"Alive? You almost killed me back there!"

Brom switches the subject. "You did something?"

"Yes. I was backed into an alleyway and the Urgals were blocking the exit. So I made my arrow catch fire with a blue flame and it shot at them and killed them."

There is a moment of silence.

"You did magic." Brom sighs. "Emily was right."

"Emily was…I should have known." Eragon's face was hard. "You knew we'd encounter danger."

I bow my head. "Yes."

"And you still led us into what could have been death?"

"You escaped in the book. Escaped learning a valuable skill. If you had not learned it, we would have been in a dangerous situation now."

"This is not the book!" Eragon yells. "This is real life! And what happens in real life is different from a stupid _book_! You know that!"

"Saphira was watching over you."

Eragon glares at me.

"If you hate me, go ahead and say it. I just want to keep you alive. And so does Brom."

Eragon spurs Cadoc far ahead of the group, galloping away.

I start to follow, but Brom thrust out a hand.

"No. He'll come back."

As angry as Saphira is, I reach into her mind.

_Please watch over Eragon._

Saphira snorts and tosses her head furiously. _So I am left to guard my Rider, while you think up ambitious plots to get him killed! And while you are at it, endangering the entire Empire as well? Recklessness doesn't even begin to describe you!_

Saphira opens her maw and roars a terrifying threat before taking off high into the sky. I bow my head in shame. She is right as always. Brom notices my discomfort.

"You did what you had to," Brom said gently.

"Search along the Ninor. Somewhere, very secluded, will be a clearing in the trees. We can rest there for the night. It's been a long day." Brom notes my sudden change of subject but doesn't comment on it.

I suspect that it is with the help of Saphira that we found it. We always see a footprint, clear in the ground. As we pass each one, Brom covers up the footprint. Eragon is already there, Cadoc picketed away from a smoky fire.

"I'm sorry Eragon. I hope you'll forgive me."

Eragon does not reply. I don't speak any more. The minutes spread into half an hour, then an hour.

"What is in my future? If things run on track I mean." I am surprised at the tenderness in his voice.

"An elf, a witch, a werecat, a flaming sword, and a Shadeslayer."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who is the Shadeslayer?"

"You are, Eragon."

Eragon is dumbfounded for a second. "I suppose that I wield this flaming sword as well."

"Yes."

"Can you read my story up to where we are now?"

I consider it for a moment, and finally decide, "Yes, I see no harm in that."

I summon Eragon and for a full five minutes, Eragon examines the book. "I am famous in your world then?"

"Very."

He considers the picture of Saphira, and then shows it to her.

_Not a bad likeness, _Saphira admits. She seems to have forgiven me, and I don't press the subject.

"Can you read the front cover for me and tell me what the words mean?"

"Yes," I say. I point to the gold lettering. "This is your name. It is also the name of the book."

I note that Eragon tries to commit it to memory, even if he can't read or write.

"Underneath is the author's name, Christopher Paolini."

"And this?"

He points to the top of the book.

"The Sunday Times bestseller."

"What does that mean?"

I smile. "It means that according to the Sunday Times newspaper, you're a really good book."

Eragon takes a playful swipe at me and we start laughing.

I open the pages, making sure to skip the map.

"Prologue: Shade of Fear," I read. Eragon sits bolt upright, looking at the words he can't understand yet.

"_Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world," _I begin. _"A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air…."_

I carry on, Eragon and Saphira hanging onto my every word. After the chapter, which only consists of seven pages, Eragon starts up a conversation with Brom, about magic. After the warning about the fact that magic uses strength, I summon my sleeping bag and a teddy called DD (that stands for Dead Duck, full name is Jemima Dead Duck,) who I got when I found out I had to have a root canal done on my tooth. I am _not _giving away any details of that; there may be quite a few squeamish people around. She's sort of like my dentist guardian.

We saddle up next morning and head south. The day is monotonous, broken only by the sound of Brom and Eragon talking about magic. Finally, Brom scoops up a few pebbles and hands two to Eragon and me.

"Try and lift these."

Eragon struggles, but fails, and I only manage to keep it in the air for a few seconds before it drops. The green magic-mist fades.

"Stenr risa!" I command, and the pebble floats for one…two…three…no, it's down again. Three seconds. Not bad. I allow myself a grin. Brom's keen eye doesn't miss anything.

"You've tried this before?"

I nod. "Just before you met me."

"Ah. I thought I felt some magic nearby. Partly why I came to investigate."

I go back to lifting the rock. Sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn't.

"Why do I struggle lifting the rock but I defeated that Urgal with such a powerful spell?"

"Alas, if only I knew. But I have a theory, no more than that," smiled Brom.

"Which is?"

"The more pressure you are under, or if you are frustrated, it becomes easier to do your spell. That is how the Rider's originally learned."

Eragon is trying, but the pebble isn't moving anywhere.

"How do you do it Emily?"

"I just relax and focus on the pebble. You can feel your mind becoming tangible. Then, just search for the magic on one side of the barrier, ram it, and say stenr risa and hey presto!"

"What?"

I sigh. "Never mind. Lift that pebble."

This time, Eragon manages to manipulate the flow of magic so that the stone rises. He grunts and lets it down again. He's a natural at it. I grudgingly admit to myself that he is better than I am. I could hardly lift it on my first go.

We continued to practise all through the day. It amazed me every time the pebble moved off my hand, but Eragon was getting irritable and bored. At the end of the practise, the sun is hanging low in the sky, and Eragon dangles the pebble over Cadoc's side and is about to let go when Brom orders, "Don't. Keep it."

Eragon shoots Brom a look of anger and frustration, which Brom avoids, but reluctantly tucks it into his pocket.

As Brom gives Eragon and me words to memorise, I make _Eragon _appear and show him the dictionary of the ancient language. Brom looks impressed but cautious.

"This could be a treasure trove for Galbatorix," he warns. "Keep it guarded."

"Under pain of death," I agree, although the words make me shiver. Brom nods, although I can see how worried he is.

We finally stop and I turn Linden loose with Cadoc and Snowfire, as both Brom and Eragon are sparring around the fire. I took my time, reluctant to take a battering. Finally I can put it of no longer.

"Do you mind telling me where you have been?" growled Brom.

"Looking after the horses," I answer innocently.

"While you're still here, let's get on with it."

Ignoring Eragon, who is watching by Saphira, I catch the stick thrown by Brom and watch him carefully, and we circle around the fire. Suddenly, I lunge forward, aiming for his leg. Brom parries and yells, "Sloppy! You've got to move more!"

I feel my aggression building up, the thrill of the fight. _Let's see if you can handle this, you old man._

As Brom whips the stick towards my head, I sweep my stick up and knock it out of the way. Brom's eyes widen, caught of guard by my speed. Before he can react, I flick the stick against the side of his head. Brom staggers.

"Good! I underestimated you. Don't expect your enemy to wait around though. I'm only going easy on you because you're a girl!"

I know this is true. He is as savage as a lion with Eragon.

"How very sexist of you," I remark.

But Brom's stance has changed. He is going as hard as he can now. Suddenly, I feel a blow to my leg and then immediately to my head. I collapse and sink into a world of blackness.

A slap sharply jerks me back into semi-reality.

"On second thoughts," I groan, "I'll choose the sexist option."

Brom grins like a wolf and beckons. I reluctantly get to my feet.

I'm aching all over by the time the fight has finished. I reluctantly admit that Brom is a lot better than I thought he was.


	15. Daret

**Chapter 15**

**Daret**

It takes ages for us to arrive at Daret. It gives us time to improve our skills. Soon, I can lift a pebble with confidence, although Brom keeps me back while Eragon progresses to lifting water. My private lessons are going well, and I can mentally hold Brom off for almost an hour. Brom starts me on Conjouring three things at a time. It takes tremendous concentration to keep all three things where I direct them to arrive.

Brom no longer holds back when we spar, leaving me bruised all over, but I am finally getting the hang of it. The trick is partly skill, partly sneaky surprising moves.

When we finally do reach Daret, I feel more powerful than ever. We see the huge river first, and then the small village that comes with it. As we approach, I feel Saphira hide close by the village. I sense her fear and try and calm her, but she blocks me from her mind. It is quiet. To quiet.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Brom is nervous after Yazuac.

"Yes. They will try to stop you, but do not falter. Just follow the natural course of time and everything will be okay."

"We seem to have this conversation every single time we go into a village or town."

"Well, you gotta make checks on things," I reply smiling. Brom laughs as well.

Eragon looks down at the footprints of a child.

"They're here," I reassure him. "Just follow Brom's lead."

Brom nods at me and says, "Let's get out of here. I don't like the feel of this."

Brom turns Snowfire around and kicks at his flanks. Snowfire lunges forward into a gallop and I encourage Linden to follow as well, Cadoc close behind. I know what is coming, but even so, the sheer deliberateness of the wagons tipping their load into the street sends shivers up my spine. If they had misjudged that, we could be seriously injured…or worse.

"Halt! Put your weapons down! You're surrounded by sixty archers. They'll shoot you if you move." The speaker, a man leaps with amazing agility onto the wagon, brandishing a bow, a mean looking broadsword sheathed at his side.

Brom takes my advice and does not look alarmed, while I am struggling to resist the urge to _do _something.

"What do you want?" asks Brom. I am amazed at his calmness.

"Why have you come here?" The man's hard – iron eyes never waver. I reach forwards into his mind, cautiously. I sort through his intentions. I find fear, aggressiveness, and the unwillingness to let strangers pass until they have been tested until I pause at an emotion that was jumbled, but clearly displayed his unwillingness to kill innocent people. I sigh with relief and withdraw in time to hear Brom say, "Food, meat, water, and if you have a spare pair of gloves that will fit my nephew, I'd like to buy those as well. Oh, I'm forgetting something. Oh yes! A sword for my brother, with a leather sheath and whetstone. You can give it to the girl, she can carry it."

"A female with a sword?" The man sounds uncertain, but reluctantly nods.

"My name's Trevor. Normally I'd shake your hand, but under the circumstances, I think I'll keep my distance. Tell me, where are you from?"

"North," replies Brom, seemingly miles away. "But we haven't been in any place long enough to call home. Have the Urgals forced you to take these measures?"

"Yes," replies Trevor with a dark face. "And worse fiends."

_Ask him what these fiends are _I tell Brom.

"Such as?"

Trevor appears startled. "You haven't heard the rumours?"

"No," Brom says.

"Shades, monsters with hooded black cloaks, soldiers, and thrice blasted criminals in on the action to name a few. Haven't you heard anything from the other towns?"

"I wish it wasn't our lot to bring you these tidings. Nearly a fortnight ago we passed through Yazuac and found it pillaged. The villagers had been slaughtered and piled together. We would have tried to give them a decent burial but two Urgals attacked us."

Horror on his face, Trevor steps backwards, almost losing his footing, as if he can somehow hide from the terrible news. When he looks up again, we can see the tears in his eyes. "Alas, this is a dark day. Still, I don't see how two Urgals could have defeated all of Yazuac. The people there were good fighters, some of them my friends."

"There were signs that a band of Urgals had ravaged the town," Brom offers. "I think the ones we encountered were deserters."

"How large was the company?"

Brom does not answer immediately, fingering the saddlebags on Snowfire.

"Large enough to wipe out Yazuac but small enough to go unnoticed into the countryside. No more than a hundred, no less than fifty. If I'm not mistaken, either number would prove fatal to you."

Trevor looks down and nods, obviously deep in thought.

"You should consider leaving," Brom advises. "This place has become far too perilous for anyone to live here in peace."

"I know," sighs Trevor. "But the people here refuse to consider moving. This is their home – as well as mine, though I have only been here for a couple of years – and they place its worth above their own lives." Trevor pauses.

"We have repulsed individual Urgals, and that has given the townsfolk a confidence far beyond our abilities. I fear we will wake up one morning with our throats slashed."

The archer hurries out of the house and shoves a load of objects onto the floor in front of the horses, waits with his hand out until Brom pays him. He assumes his position again without looking at us. Brom raises an eyebrow but does not comment.

"Why did they choose you to defend Daret?" enquires Brom. Trevor shrugs modestly. "I was in the king's army for a few years."

Brom nods and begins to sort through the items, gives me the sword in its sheath and shows me how to strap it on. He hands the gloves to Eragon. The tough leather is worn, but even so, I feel envious. _I _want a pair of gloves like that!

Brom packs the rest of the items into the saddlebags, sharing out the weight between the horses.

"Well, as I promised, I will go now."

Trevor nodded. "When you enter Dras-Leona, would you do us this favour? Alert the Empire to our plight and that of other towns. If word of this hasn't reached the King by now, it's cause for worry. And if he has, but has chosen to do nothing, that too is a cause for worry."

"We will carry your message. May your swords stay sharp."

"And yours."

The wagons pulled out of the way, leaving the horses to navigate around the rubble left in their wake. Trevor and the archers disappeared and Brom mounted Snowfire and led the way out of Daret. Brom headed for the trees that also bordered on the Ninor River. Brom looked at me. "I never believed that unrest was this far widespread. I wonder why the Urgals were forced into slaughtering Yazuac if they were under orders from Galbatorix."

"WHAT?" yelled Eragon so loud, Cadoc flicked his ears and tilted his ears backwards in disaprovement.

"When were you planning to tell me this?"

"I'm sorry Eragon," I say. "I completely forgot."

"I suppose it doesn't alter our chances of attack, but this is major news," Eragon said.

"But it does mean something important," I caution him. "The Urgals will attack us because they want to capture you. They will not think twice about killing us, but they will certainly not kill you."

"True. Very true."

"But, why won't Galbatorix not want to kill me? I'm his biggest threat!"

"Because what Galbatorix craves is the end of the Varden, the end of rebellion, when he may rule on his dark throne without fear of invasion. With another Rider at his side, the war will be over, and all of Alagaësia will fall to Galbatorix."

"I never knew," Eragon whispered. "There is an awful lot of pressure on me then right?"

"Eragon," I say. "You are the last Rider on earth that is in range of the King. Hopefully I can stop another one from being forced to serve Galbatorix. He does in the book."

"There is another one?" said Brom, turning in the saddle to look at me. "What colour is the dragon?" I know this is a test. He is worrying whether Oromis could be a slave to Galbatorix. "A red dragon. And he is ridden by a man." Brom turns away.

"What is his name?" asked Eragon. I pause. "I can't tell you," I reply. My plan is for Murtagh to get to the Varden. Then he can be locked up. I don't care about his freedom. All I care about is the lives of people that Murtagh will destroy, including a dwarf king.

Brom ponders this for a moment, and then turns on us again.

"Did you use any of your powers when you were in Daret?" he asked both of us.

I nod, Eragon shakes his head. "But you knew I'd give you this grilling, right? I'm not too far off the beaten track, am I?"

I grin and shake my head. "Nope. Still right ahead of you."

"That leaves you excused. Right Eragon. Why ever not?"

"There was no reason to."

"Wrong!" asserts Brom. "You could have sensed Trevor's intentions. Even with my limited abilities-" here, he allows himself a secretive grin, "-I was able to do that. If the villagers were bent on killing us, I wouldn't have just sat there. However, I felt that there could be a reasonable chance of talking our way out of there, which is what I did."

"How could you know what Trevor was thinking?" demands Eragon. "Am I supposed to see into peoples minds?"

I let the discussion fly by, while conversing with Saphira. I am surprised to see that when I relate the day to her, her anger ebbs and fades.

_Eragon was in no real danger _I assure her.

_Of course, _Saphira replies, coiling up. I am surprised to see that the only anger she feels is rejection.

_If you want to tell Eragon that he must ride with you, then do so, _I say to her. _He needs to learn as much as possible. He is frightened of flying since his last attempt. But he will grow to love it almost as much as you._

_Then, _Saphira decides, snapping up a small rodent as she does so, _maybe I will. _She closes her mind partially, but I can still feel her pleasure as she slices through the mammal as one does a knife with soft cheese.

When we reach the hollow in the trees, Saphira thrusts out her head, making the horses prance backwards.

_What is the matter?_

_You are the matter._

Eragon dismounts and clambers up into Saphira's back, manoeuvring himself into position. Saphira crouches for a second and then leaps into the sky, levelling out.

_Saphira! Land!_

_Not until you give me your word that you will fly with me tomorrow._

_Is that really necessary?_Saphira utters a sudden and terrifying roar of disbelief at this statement.

_Is that really necessary? You ride on a pitiful deer animal that you call a steed. Is that necessary? Why does my prey come before me? Why ride my prey and not ride me? I am a dragon, you are a Dragon Rider, and it is your duty to fly with me tomorrow, unless I carry you upside down in my claws. _Then _we will see whether it is necessary or not! _

_Very well. I give you my word. Satisfied?_

_I am content, _Saphira replies, with obvious sarcasm. She dives towards the earth and lands with a huge crash next to the horses. It takes all my skill and determination to keep Linden in place. As soon as Eragon mounts Cadoc, Saphira looks away in disdain and flies off.

At sundown, we make camp. Eragon spars around the fire as usual and this time severs the sticks in two. I am not so lucky, but I manage to clip him under the chin with such force that Brom stumbles a few steps before regaining his balance. Panting with sweat, Brom warns me, "When you have enough strength to snap both of these sticks in two, you'll have to have the strength as well as the speed, but you're a natural. You're one of the fastest human swordfighters I have ever seen. Just build up your strength and you'll be perfect."

It was so rare for Brom to give sincere praise that for a moment I falter.

"Thanks," I manage a second later. Brom nods. He calls Eragon over and shows him how to do the block. Eragon manages the third try. I need five tries before I do it, but a green spark assures me that the edge of my sword is guarded. Brom undoes the spell and says, "Okay! Enough for the night. You'll practise with the sticks Emily, and we can get started with the swords."

I hate being held behind while other people do more advanced things, but I know that Eragon needs the experience more than I do. But for now, I am content with summoning Storm, another teddy, and my sleeping bag and I get to sleep almost immediately.


	16. Teirm

**Chapter 16**

**Teirm**

Eragon spends the next day with Saphira as promised. Brom finds the Ra'zac's flask of Seithr Oil and promptly destroys it, as we already know where we are going. I try and contact Saphira and Eragon, but they are preoccupied with the joys of flying. Brom calls Eragon down from the roof of the sky and explains the route.

"We're angling towards the Toark River. We can reach the pass cut into the Spine and continue along it until we get to Teirm."

"Can we reach the pass within the week?" asked Eragon.

"Certainly," replies Brom. "If we angle away from the Ninor and to our right, we may even be able to see the mountains tomorrow."

"Very well."

We continue on our way, until we make camp. I fight Brom first, and I suddenly feel a great pound of energy, and I snap both sticks as I hoped I would.

"Good! Try with your sword now."

I pull my sword out of my sheath, struggling slightly with its weight, and place two fingers on its blade. I concentrate, opening my mind up to the flow of magic and invoke, "Gëuloth du knifir!"

The green spark jumps between my fingers and I check that the edge is guarded.

"These won't kill. That doesn't mean that they still aren't potentially lethal, so try not to hit anywhere vital."

I nod and look for an advantage as we circle around the fire. There is a higher ground on the left side of the fire, so I leap onto the higher ground. Brom nods in recognition and strikes without warning. I fling myself at him; blocking his strike and forcing him back a step. I sense my advantage and press, but Brom parries all of my blows, rapping me sharply on the knee.

My arms start burning and sweat coats my shoulders as I struggle to lift the sword fast enough. Although the weight slows me down, I am not the only one with bruises when I settle down in my sleeping bag.

We set off early the next day, and Eragon asks me, "Emily, have you ever seen the sea?"

"Of course!" I look at him in surprise. "I live on a peninsula. A stretch of land covered on three sides by water," I add, noting Eragon's confused expression. "So I see the sea all the time."

I summon a picture of the seaside and give it to Eragon. He gasps. He pays no attention to the pure white church beside the sea and concentrates on the sea itself.

"By the Kings," whispers Eragon. "It's so beautiful."

"Aye, that it is," I reply. "Have you truly not seen the sea before?"

"No," says Eragon, shaking his head. "I've always wanted to though."

For a minute I am struck dumb. Almost everyone in my world has seen the sea before. And yet a Dragon Rider in this world has never seen it before.

"I promise that when we get to Teirm, you will see the sea through your own eyes," I assure him. Eragon nods with excited anticipation.

"I can't wait!"

We arrive at the mountain's foothills and I can tell that Eragon feels reassured. The mountains remind me of Carvahall as well, and I am certain that a part of me will always be attached to Carvahall. We plod on, feed and water the horses, not really caring about the distance, only the beautiful scenery all around us. The foothill trek lasts only three says, but it is enough for my list of top ten beautiful places to be radically changed.

After the three days, we stumble onto a track with deep ruts for wagons.

"This is the main road between the capital Urû'Baen and Teirm," explains Brom from the front on Snowfire. "It's widely used and a favourite route for merchants. We have to be more cautious. This isn't the busiest time of year but a few people are bound to be people using the road."

The days seem to merge together and Brom works us as hard as ever. We learn more of the ancient language words than I already know, and I am surprised how easy they are to remember, as if a part of me always knew them.

I can now change the objects I Conjure and also multiply them by seventeen. The more I practise, the easier it gets. I am also taking archery. Brom says I have a natural talent for it. By the time we reach the pass, I can hit a target nine times out of ten from astounding distances. Sword fighting is also progressing. I can't defeat Brom yet, but I could hold him off for a while, until he gets one through. I hunt three nights a week, Eragon the other three, and Brom the rest. Eragon hunts with a pebble, but Brom wants me to hone my skills, so I use my bow for two of my nights, and the pebble for the other one.

I am changing. I am stronger, faster, and I suddenly realise that my best is only a fraction of what I thought it was. My arms have become stronger, and I start to realise that Brom is right. I am so much faster than I thought I was, both in running and reflexes. My confidence builds and I start to wonder what my limits are.

We finally reach the pass; the river that flows out of it seems wild and untamed. Beside it is a limestone ledge, wide, but precariously high. The steps carved into it are narrow, but Linden climbs upwards with no hesitation. I feel hemmed in, worse than on the plains. Eragon is happy, I can tell. He is used to this, and in a way, so am I. But I like freedom, and in this narrow pass, there is none. It takes all my self restraint not to turn Linden around and head out into the sunshine again, but Brom is next to me and I would rather die than let him think I was scared of the mountains.

Two days later, we top a ledge and see out of the mountains. The distance we still have to go is astonishing, and I hear Eragon groan. I am of the same opinion, but more optimistic. The pass is not far, considering all the miles we have gone. I enquire about leagues to Eragon, as he measures nearly all distances in leagues. He tells me that a league is approximately three miles. Brom points to the flat land below. "Down there and to the north is the city of Teirm. It is an old city. Some say it's where the elves first landed in Alagaësia. Its citadel has never fallen, nor have its warriors ever been defeated." He urged Snowfire on, leaving the ledge, and also leaving me wondering what feat of accomplishment Teirm could possibly be.

The next day, we descend and leave the Spine behind. I sigh with relief as the mountains are fading into the distance. The land began to get muddy and soon, Linden's shining silver coat was slathered in gore. Eragon and Brom also began to resemble mud monsters as well, so, before they got the chance to get completely coated in mud, I summoned purple cagoules for them both.

"Its purple!" protested Eragon. "It's a purple coat!"

"Well, my sister did have a nice respectable black coat in exactly the same size," I inform them.

"Then why do we wear the purple coat when there is a _perfectly respectable _black one we could wear?"

"Because it amuses me."

We plod on through the mire for several hours.

"Why is everything so green here?" wonders Eragon. "Don't they have winter here?"

"Yes, but the season is mild," Brom says. "Mist and fog roll in from the sea and keep everything alive. Some find it to their liking, but to me it is rather dreary and depressing."

We continue on in silence, although excitement builds up in me. This is the first step to going to the Varden. This is also the first major city I have been in since the _Eragon _series catapulted me into this world. And, I have heard that it is also a pretty impressive one as well. We stop on a dry rocky area. Brom tells me not to Conjure or use magic. So Brom gets out the meat we bought from Daret and puts it over a pot that Brom unearths from his backpack. He digs a hole in the ground, makes a pile of sticks for a fire, and lights it with the tinderbox, putting the pot over the hole. The pot is big enough that it doesn't fall in the hole, but small enough that the flames can still heat the water inside fairly quickly. When the water starts to bubble, Brom tears off a chunk of meat and throws it into the pot, along with a lump of salt.

Finally, the meat is ready, and I eat, relishing the meat. Although what is undoubtedly a simple meal, I have never had a meal that consisted only of my favourite food. I love meat. I also care about animals. But without omnivores among humans, the goat, sheep, chickens, and other sources of food would die out. I've contented myself with the fact that eating meat is the natural order of things, and it would be ludicrous to pretend otherwise. (I mean no offence to vegetarians, I was one once.)

"Eragon, you should continue to ride Cadoc until we reach Teirm. It is likely that we will meet travellers and an old man and a thirteen year old girl will raise suspicion. With you at my side, no one will ask questions. Besides, I don't want to show up at the city and have someone who saw me on the trail with Emily wondering where you suddenly came from."

"Will we use our own names?" Eragon said, pausing between bites. Brom stopped chewing on his meat and swallowed.

"We won't be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name and I think I can trust him with yours. But to everyone else, I will be Neal and you will be my nephew and niece. And as Emily has come up with the precaution of choosing a new name, we'll use Kiera. Eragon you will be Evan. Okay?"

"Who is Jeod?" asks Eragon.

"I never told him," I interject. Brom nods and before Eragon can reply, he says, "Jeod was a friend of mine. He lives in Teirm. We have to go there to a.) kill time and b.) rescue a certain Roran from an uncertain misunderstanding."

It was after two days that we spot Teirm. I strain to catch a glimpse through the mist. I gasp. Teirm is huge, almost like an elaborate sandcastle city enlarged. One, thick wall kept the city from spilling out over the mountains, protected the huge city. Two huge portcullises covered the South and West Gateways, and soldiers patrolled the walkways on top. The citadel is higher than the city walls which surprise me at first, but I remember what Brom says in the book.

The sea.

I hadn't noticed, being too focused on the city. But the sea is such a tropical blue, so calm, and yet, so alive. We approach the city with caution.

"This is our first test. Let's hope that they haven't received reports of us from the Empire and won't detain us. Whatever happens, don't panic or act suspiciously." I unconsciously tense up. I've thrown myself of 12 foot rocks, had a drill on my tooth, and fell off a tree into a pile of stinging nettles, spraining my ankle. But there is no adrenaline like almost being killed. Despite the fact that I know that we are in no danger, the fact remains, I'm more scared now than ever.

"Be still," Brom hisses as I start shaking. I concentrate as hard as I can on Linden's mane. After a few minutes, I've calmed down enough to think logically. We ride steadily towards the gate and my heartbeat doubles, although I keep control of myself this time.

"How big is this place?" asks Eragon in an awed whisper.

"Larger than any city you have ever seen," replies Brom with a twinkle in his eye.

We get to the entrance and the gateway towers over us. The pikemen stop chatting and bar the way.

"What's yer name?" asks one of the pikemen.

"I'm called Neal," slouches Brom in the saddle. Even Snowfire lowers his head and loses his regality.

"And the young un's?"

"I wus gettin to that. This'd be my nephew and niece, Evan and Kiera. They're my misus', not a…"

"Yeah, yeah," the pikeman says. "And yer business here?"

"He's visitin an old friend," Eragon slurs. "He ain't as young as he used to be. Touch o' the brain fever, yer know?"

Brom nods and the pikeman waves us through, dropping the pike. "Right, go on through. Just don't cause any trouble eh?"

"He won't," Eragon says, spurring Cadoc on. I urge Linden on and gasp at the splendour of all the houses. Brom pays no attention to the houses, stops slouching on Snowfire, and whips around to face Eragon.

"Touch of the brain fever?" he demands. I giggle. Brom glares at me as well.

"You can't expect Eragon to sit back and let you commandeer our little group," I tease him. The outskirts of the city are grim and dark, but whenever we get to a long street, I can see that the further in you go, the bigger and grander the houses become. Eragon and Brom exchange words, but I am not listening. I know vaguely what Angela's shop looks like and I am curious to meet him.

I almost make the mistake of staring open mouthed at a man who is wearing a sword on his belt.

_Shut your mouth. In your world, you might not be able to carry sticks in your pocket but this is Alagaësia. _

_Sorry dad._

Behind the joking is a bittersweet emotion. I envy Eragon. He doesn't have to choose which world he lives in. Brom is definitely nominated as one of the top ten dads in both this world and mine. Brom senses my melancholy and withdraws.

"The Green Chestnut," murmurs Brom. "Wonderful." We enter the tavern and the darkness in the room is so complete that I hesitate. My eyes adjust to the darkness and suddenly, I want to run in the opposite direction. The room is held up by rotting beams and a smoky fire smouldered in the corner. No one seems to appreciate our presence and automatically reach out and search everyone's mind. No one seems threatening, except that nearly all of them resent our presence. Not that there was a lot of people here.

"Do you know where Jeod is? Or will it interrupt the _course of _events?"

"Of course I know where Jeod is. But if you ask, you might find out something else to your benefit."

Brom walked calmly up to the bartender who was polishing a broken glass.

"Do you know where we can find a man called Jeod?"

"Now why would I know something like that? Do you think I keep track of all the mangy louts in this forsaken place?" The man, Gareth, I think his name is, almost shouts at Brom. Brom does not leave or show any sign of discomfort which ruffles Gareth.

"Do you think you could be enticed to remember?" enquires Brom pleasantly. He dips a hand into his pocket a lets some coins fall onto the bar. The man quietens down and gave Brom his full attention.

"Could be. But my memory takes a great deal of prodding," shrugs Gareth. Brom's face darkens with a hint of anger. He throws me a look, and Gareth stumbles back a step but Brom's face clears and lets another few coins clink onto the bar.

Greed is so prominent on Gareth's face, as he makes to scoop the coins into his hand. "All right."

"Gareth! What in th' blazes do you think you're doing? Anyone on the street could tell them where Jeod lives. What are you charging them for?"

Gareth duplicates the dark look that Brom shoots him, directing it at the man who spoke, the man with the two fingers missing that has yelled across the tavern from the back corner. Brom seizes the opportunity and brushes the coins from the bar back into his purse. He turns round, and proceeds to the back of the bar. Gareth resumes dusting the smashed glass, trying to ignore us.

"Thanks. The name's Neal. This is Evan and Kiera."

The man grunted. "Martin, and of course, you met Gareth." He has the deepest voice that I've known. It makes you think of a carpenter, rough but caring. He glances at me. "Kiera you say? Interesting name. And how do you spell that?"

"I can't spell," I say, doing my best to look ashamed.

"Well, it's a damn good skill if you ask me. Perhaps Neal can teach you. You look educated enough."

Brom bobs his head. "I am proficient to some degree. It seems I owe you a few crowns."

Martin smiled and shook his head. "Nah, you don't owe me anything. My pleasure. Can't say the same for Gareth though – his business hasn't been doing so well lately. As for Jeod," Martin scratched his bearded chin, which was trimmed, but nevertheless had a careless look about it. "Jeod lives on the west side of town, next to Angela the herbalist. Do you have business with him?"

"Of a sort."

"Well; he won't be interested in buying anything. He lost another ship a few days ago."

Brom's eyes brightened in worry. "What happened? It wasn't Urgals was it?"

"No," replied Martin and Brom pulled up a chair and slumped into it with relief. Eragon and I do the same. Martin leans forward and rests his head on the table. "They've left the area. No one's seen 'em in almost a year. Seems like they'll be all gone south and east. But they aren't the problem. You see, most of our business is through sea trade as I'm sure you know." He pauses, considers his next sentence, filling the pause by drinking some beer from his clay mug.

"Well, starting several months ago, someone's being attacking our ships. It's not the usual piracy, as only the ships that carry the goods of certain merchants are attacked. Jeod's one of 'em. It's gotten so bad that no captain will accept those merchant's goods, which makes life difficult around here. Especially because some of 'em run some of the largest shipping businesses in the Empire. They're being forced to send goods by land. Its driven costs painfully high and the caravans don't always make it."

Brom leans forward as well, in interest. Martin pauses respectfully.

"Have you any idea who's responsible? There must be witnesses."

Martin shakes his head, almost knocking over the mug.

"No one survives the attacks. Ships go out, then they disappear; they're never seen again." He puts his head closer to Brom, his eyes darting around the pub, as if frightened of being overheard. "The sailors are saying its magic." He winked confidentially and leaned back on his chair. Brom also sank back, looking worried.

"What do you think?"

Martin shrugs. "I don't know. And I don't think I will unless I'm unfortunate enough to be on one of those captured ships."

"Are you a sailor?" Eragon enquires. Martin snorts.

"Do I look like one? The captains hire me to defend their ships against pirates. And those thieving scum haven't been very active recently. Still, it's a good job."

"But a dangerous one," notes Brom. Martin shrugs carelessly and downs his beer, rising to return the cup and pay the tavern bartender. Brom also rises, and Eragon and I follow suit. Brom frowns, a worried look on his face.


	17. Of Jeod and Angela

**Chapter 17**

**Of Jeod and Angela**

The herbalists shop could not have been more out of place than an ice sculpture in the middle of the Sahara.

It has a cheery sign, entitled, _Angela's Herbs_. A crystal ball, and various plants sprawled on the window, and a short, curly headed woman with dark hair sat by the door, holding a frog and writing on a piece of parchment.

"Jeod is on the right," I tell Brom. Angela looks up.

"Hello, hello. What can I do for you?"

"We are here to find Jeod," Brom tells her, a hint of a smile on his beaten face.

"If you want to _find _someone, first you have to lose them. I'd recommend dropping him down a dried up well, _no one _ever looks there. And, if by any chance someone _does _find him, and he's a little out of shape, bring him to be. Some of my herbs might fix him up a bit. If not, come in anyway! I'd love you to buy some love potion."

"I'm afraid we have little time for love lives," Brom truly smiles this time. "But perhaps later?"

"Perhaps."

Angela resumes writing and Brom proceeds to the right. He steps up the marble doorstep and knocks the iron knocker, quite a bit louder than necessary. He pauses. Nothing. He bangs on the knocker again. Eventually, the door cracks open, just wide enough to reveal a woman's face. She is pale, showing the red rims around her eyes and light blonde hair with dazzling but cold blue eyes. Helen. "Yes? What do you want?"

"Does Jeod live here?" asks Brom softly.

"Yes, he is my husband," Helen replies. "Is he expecting you?" A note of cool steel appears in her otherwise smooth voice.

"No, but we need to talk with him," says Brom.

"He is very busy." Now, a note of defiance.

"We have travelled far. It is very important that we see him."

Her face hardens and the door closes slightly. "He is busy," she repeats, almost angrily.

Brom throws her a less angry version of the dark look he sent to Gareth. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message? Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."

Helen considered his request for a moment, then slammed the door, vanishing.

"Jeod will be here in a second," I reassure them. "You'll see."

"She wasn't very polite," Eragon remarks. Brom rebukes him and turns to me. I hear hurried footsteps and the door is flung open. A tall man with a brave, scarred face and grey hair darts out of the door, stopping only when he has had a good look at Brom. His clothes are expensive, and I wonder what he must have looked like when his business was going well. He suddenly crumples against the doorframe and opens and closes his mouth, but no air enters or leaves. Jeod's lips part one last time, but a whisper of breath escapes him. "Brom?"

Brom had been watching with a mournful expression, which he quickly hides and puts a finger to his lips, clasping his free hand on Jeod's arm. "It's good to see you Jeod!" He adds in a more private tone, "I am glad that memory has not failed you, but don't use that name. It would be…unfortunate if anyone was to knew I was here."

Jeod lifts himself gingerly off the doorframe, pale with shock, and tests his balance. Seemingly satisfied, he looks around, to survey the area. No one is around. Finally, he returns his gaze to Brom.

"I thought you were dead," Jeod says, wildly. "Why haven't you contacted me before?"

"All things will be explained," Brom assures him. "Do you have a place we can talk in private?"

Jeod fights against another bout of dizziness and I am worrying he is going to faint, but with an effort, he rights himself and says shakily, "We can't talk here, but if you wait, I'll take you somewhere where we can."

"Fine," Brom says, leaning against the wall, his eyes unfocused. Jeod nods and retreats inside.

A thin, slim sword is at Jeod's side when he reappears moments later, accompanied by an embroidered jacket and a feathered hat. Brom surveys Jeod and nods and Jeod smiles and shrugs, a little embarrassed.

Jeod leads us back towards the citadel, leaving me to lead Snowfire and Linden and Eragon to lead Cadoc. Snowfire and Linden don't really like each other, but Linden's temperament is so sweet that Snowfire seems to be getting along with her without mishap. Yet. Brom and Jeod are talking in an undertone, and it is working. I cannot pick up a word from their conversation, and Eragon doesn't even know they are talking. He is gazing at the citadel, trying to grasp the scale of this enormous city. Jeod waved a careless hand towards the impressive structure, explaining, "Risthart, the lord of Teirm, has decreed that all business owners must have their headquarters in his castle. Even though most of us conduct his business elsewhere, we still have to rent rooms there. It is nonsense, but we abide by it anyway to keep him calm. We'll be free of eavesdroppers there, the walls are thick."

Saying so, Jeod proceeded up to the castle gates and up to a building that I guess from the story, must be the keep. We go through a side door, and without pausing, Jeod gestures to an iron ring and says, "You can tie the horses there. No one will bother them." He obviously wants to get to his rented room so he can hear Brom's story, so he waits with nervous energy in front of a door. The horses don't take that long to tether, so before long, Jeod is slipping the key into the keyhole and pushing the door open, striding down the long hallway. I try not to shiver with revulsion at the slime on the walls and I look away as Eragon presses his palm to it. An exclamation of disgust tells me that Eragon is not best pleased with it either. Jeod lifts a torch out of its bracket and lights the hallway with an eerie glow. We pass many doors on the way down, and I wonder if we are headed through the door at the end, when Jeod turns and takes a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and pushes it open. I open my mouth and stare. Books cover the bookshelves that are mounted all around the room. I hardly notice the bear skin rug and stuffed chairs.

"Oh my gosh," I say softly. Jeod seems pleased.

"You are a book lover as well?"

"Indeed I am," I reply. Jeod watches my astonished face for a few more seconds, then shovels some wood in the fire, lighting it with the torch.

"You, old man, have some explaining to do," Jeod says, settling into a chair, a gleam in his eyes. Brom returns his grin and says, "Who are you calling old man? Last time I saw you; there was no grey in your hair. Now it looks like it's in the final stages of decomposition."

Jeod is still smiling. "And you look the same as you did nearly twenty years ago. Time seems to have preserved you as a crotchety old man just to inflict wisdom on a new generation. Enough of this! Get on with the story. That is what you were always good at." I notice that Eragon has leaned forward.

Brom pulls out his pipe. I hate that thing. Unless he makes a smoke ring and it flies out of sight almost immediately, the stench from the pipe is so strong; I have to struggle not to retch. It's like cigarettes, although a lot stronger smell. Fortunately, this is one of those times. I exhale in relief as the smoke ring turns green and flies up the chimney. I look over the books and lose myself in the fluid writing on the spines. It is not computerised, but hand written, with beautiful, flowing ink that is more eye catching than any WordArt I've seen. I stare at the books for another few seconds then; a name startles me back from my daydream.

"…Eragon was travelling in the same direction, as was Emily. We have stayed together for a time now." Brom recites the rest of the story and Jeod frowns, falling silent. Finally he asks, "Do you have other names while staying here?"

"Yes," Brom replies, nodding. "I'm Neal, the boy is Eragon and the girl is Allyce."

Jeod nods, and he is about to speak. Instead, he stands up to check the fire and says, "What about the girl? Was she in danger?"

Brom grins. "Emily, would you do Jeod the curtsey of showing him why you want to come with us?"

I nod. "I have two things I want to reveal to you Jeod. But first of all, I would advise you to sit down. You're going to see something that would scare the life out of you."

Jeod looks at me in worry and sits back down. "What is it?"

I close my eyes and a book falls into Jeod's lap. Before I open my eyes, I can feel its presence.

Jeod leaps up and the book falls to the ground. "That wasn't magic was it? I can't believe you have enough energy to create a book using only energy."

"Not magic," I reply. "Something else. This book used to belong to another world. And, for a while, so did I. Therefore, I can transport items over from this world to that."

Jeod picks up the book and glances at it.

"_The Fire Within…_it looks good. Who painted the cover?"

"No one painted the cover. It was done on what we call computers. Our world is highly advanced. Watch."

I summon a laptop. It appears on my knees.

"This is a laptop. Watch."

Jeod sits down. He stares at me.

I turn it on and Jeod utters an exclamation. The laptop is becoming so heavy that I Banish it. The silence is getting uncomfortable.

"That book is set in our world," I tell Jeod awkwardly. "So don't be annoyed if you don't understand some of the terms."

Jeod closes his eyes briefly. "I can see why you are coming with Brom. There was something else you wanted to show me?"

"Yes," I say. "Jeod, some time after we have left, a person will come round to your house, announcing himself as Stronghammer. He will be accompanied by a few others. Tell Stronghammer that Eragon said he would come, and use real name of Garrowson."

Eragon's face displays shock, but I plough onwards.

"Steal the _Dragon Wing _afterwards, and from there on, follow the natural course of time."

Jeod looks at me. "Very well." I know that Jeod is more rattled than he appears.

"Eragon, I'm not sure I tied Snowfire to the ring tight enough. Could you go and see that they're all right?"

Eragon walks out calmly although I can see that he is fuming. We sit quietly for a minute.

"Why aren't you sending Emily out?" Jeod says.

"She knows."

Jeod looks at Brom astounded. "Good Riders! Are you sure this is safe? If Galbatorix manages to capture her…"

"It'll be bad, I know that," Brom says.

"I never expected you to be a businessman."

I hold up my hand and raise my voice.

"Eragon! Please don't eavesdrop!"

Jeod looks at me. I nod. "I'm sorry for the interruption."

Brom resumes talking and I suddenly remember something.

"Jeod, as well as sending Ajihad a message from Brom, I need to talk to him."

"What do you want to say?"

"Tell him to ready his troops and guard his tunnels. Urgals are going to attack from the tunnels."

Brom looks at me. "You were planning to tell me this, _when_?"

"I don't know. We've been really busy so…"

"What else should I tell him?"

"Tell him we shall be arriving shortly. Also, he shall receive a message from a band of Kull that will tell him that an army is massing at Ithro Zarda. Ithro Zarda is Orthiad and where the attack shall begin."

Jeod has a pad out and is writing this down.

"Right."

"Do you know a bar or anything that we might stay in? Or would you consent to have us stay for a while?"

"Of course," Jeod exclaims, standing up and leading the way out. Eragon is sitting by the horses, and looks up.

"The horses okay?" asks Brom.

"Fine," mutters Eragon.

We untie the horses and lead them back into the city centre. Brom and Jeod mutter to themselves as we reach a tavern called the Green Chestnut.

The Green Chestnut is one of the most unpleasant places I have ever been. Drunks were yelling boisterously. It was clean, but the filthy words dirtied it. We eat the main course vigorously and settled into the tavern. Jeod and Brom are exchanging stories and chuckling. We exit the tavern as the sun is setting. Eragon runs off towards the exit and Brom, Jeod and I make off towards Jeod's house.

"Can I go in that shop?" I ask, indicating to Angela's.

Brom hesitates and nods. "Don't be long."

I walk into the shop.

"Angela!" I call. "Angela!"

Suddenly a short, brown curly haired woman pops up from behind the counter.

"Hello dear. I saw you before didn't I?"

"Yes you did, Angela."

"And may I ask how you know my name?"

"You could."

"Would you answer?"

"Probably not."

_Hello Farseer_

I immediately tighten the barriers around my mind.

_Solembum? Is that you?_

_Who else?_

A shaggy grey cat padded into view. I touch my lips in the fashion of the elves and bow.

_You really do know your manners._

_Thank you Solembum._

"He likes you," says Angela. "He says you're a great hope for the Varden."

"He may be right," I answer.

"Do you want me to cast your fate?"

"Dragon knucklebones?" I enquire.

"Yes."

"Then cast the bones for me."

Angela disappears into the room behind the counter, reappearing almost instantly. She gestures to the table and we sit facing each other. Angela tips out the bones into the palm of her hand.

"Do you know about the knucklebones?"  
>"Aye," I say.<p>

"Then…" Angela closes her eyes, mutters, the only word I catch is Skulblaka, and says, "Manin! Wryda! Hugin!"

She tosses the bones onto the table and studies them.

"This is the hardest reading I've ever done," she says eventually, not looking up from the bones. "Your future is so tangled and mysterious, entwined with so many other fates."

"Did you get anything?"

"A few things. I have never seen this sign here before, but I think I know what it means."

She points to an aspen shaped mark, with a dash and a circle with a line through it.

"It is a very strange mark, possibly the strangest I have ever seen. It means that you can choose to live for a long period of time or a normal span of years. I have to warn you though, although the long years are the easy option, they are not always best. You are in complete control of this decision."

"Then there is this symbol. The weaving line represents a wandering path, which represents your choices. You have many of them, such as the one I mentioned before. "

Her face grew hard. "Then, there is this symbol. The chains. You will be captured by your worst enemy. The top of this bone here, holds a book. This shows that you have many lessons to learn, perhaps no all of them in this world."

I shudder. I don't want to be captured. Galbatorix could use me against the Varden. A tear leaked out of my eye. I let it fall. Just this one.

"Are you okay?" Angela sweeps the bones into the cloth bag. She pulls out a wineskin and offers it to me.

"Wine?" I ask, trying to smile. "Aren't I a little young for that?"

"Maybe you're right," Angela says. "But why do you know so much? Solembum calls you a Farseer. Why? Why are you so important that you are to be imprisoned?"

"I am travelling with a Dragon Rider and Brom. The Rider will see you soon. My worst enemy here is Galbatorix, because I know more than I should. This knowledge may ensure the Varden's victory. But, in the wrong hands, the rebel alliance is doomed."

"How old are you? What is your name?"

"Emily," I say. "I am thirteen."

Angela studies me closely. "You carry a heavy burden for one of your age. A very heavy burden indeed. But why tell me?"

I smile. "Because, Angela, I know that is not your habit to _"hand out secrets like candied nuts on a winter solace,"_" I say, quoting one of her lines from later on in the books. Angela looks shocked. "You really are a Farseer," she whispers. But immediately, her face goes back to normal.

"Perhaps you should go back to this Dragon Rider and Brom."

"Perhaps I should." I bow in the fashion of the elves to Solembum, who is watching from the windowsill who blinks in response, thank Angela for her time, and leave her shop.

_I think I have just seen Angela at her most sincere. Not once did she laugh or make a witty statement. As it will be when Eragon goes to her._

I return to Jeod's house and Brom looks up from chatting with Eragon and Jeod.

"Good Emily. Have a nice time?"

"Yes. I went to see Angela, the herbalist next door. Could I talk with you for a moment? In private?"

"Indeed." Brom stands up. "I apologise for the secrecy," I say to Jeod and Eragon. Both Jeod and Eragon accept my apology.

We go up into a room.

"Why the privacy Emily? Why do you need it?"

"In the shop, I had Angela read my fortune."

"And? What troubles you about that?" It wasn't a dismissive comment, but a very, very cautious one.

"One of the predictions that Angela made was that I would be captured by my worst enemy."

Brom immediately understood. "You mean Galbatorix. You are afraid that he would torture you for your secrets."

"Yes," I say tears leaking out of my eyes again. "I would rather die than give it to him, but Brom, I'm so afraid."

"You are living proof that the future can be changed," Brom says. "Besides, you are far from helpless. You know what is going to happen. You can transport objects from different realities. You can fire a bow and fight with a sword, and can give a mean kick up the backside to anyone who wants to rip your teeth out. You can put up a fairly good fight if anyone wants to contain you."

"Thanks Brom," I say with a weak smile. I do feel better. I push it to the back of my mind.

We spend several days in Teirm. Brom doesn't let us slack in our training. He is starting to teach me to fight with my left hand. I've always used my right hand, but it's surprisingly easy to use my left.

"You're more ambidextrous than most swordsmen," comments Brom one day.

"Am I? I've always used my right hand. I can't write or draw with my left."

"Nevertheless, you are definitely ambidextrous. To some extent at least."

"Wow."

Brom teaches Eragon letters and reading before lunch, and I read Jeod's collection of books. I show Jeod a few books of mine and he exchanges a few books with me. His library is so impressive. Some are in the Elves Poetic Script. After lunch is sword fighting. I especially like it when the children and servants come to watch. Their wide eyes and cheers when one of us prevails are infectious.

After tea, Eragon and I have competitions with magic, with the curtains securely closed. Every night, Eragon goes to see Saphira and me, Brom, and Jeod discuss matters that Brom doesn't want Eragon to know.

"When are we going to leave? We need to get to the Varden before the army do."

"We have precious little time," Brom agrees. "It doesn't specifically state when we should leave but-"

"One the night Eragon has a dream, we leave,"

"That simplifies things. What is this dream?"

"He dreams about Arya."

"Arya?" Brom jumps. "How? Never mind. When he has the dream, we leave. Tell me when he has had it."

I feel excited again. I like adventure. Not stuck in a city not doing anything.

"We need to get ready." I was buzzing already.

"I'll do that. You just enjoy yourself."

"Okay."

I teach Jeod how to play Snap, summoning a bunch of cards to play with. Jeod still jumps when I Conjure, but not as violently. I speak to Eragon.

"Soon, there will come a dream. It will upset you, but if you have a dream which is clearer than any other, please tell me."

"Okay," Eragon agrees. "I've become used to you making weird requests of me."

That night, Eragon comes to me, shaking me awake.

"I've just had the dream," he tells me. Tear marks are still on his face.

"Thanks. Here."

In a flash of light, a tissue appears in my hand.

"I didn't know you could do that," Eragon says.

"What?"

"The flashy thing."  
>"Yeah. It happens when I don't have a need for secrecy."<p>

"Cool." He wipes his eyes and offers it back to me. With a flick of my wrist, the tissue vanishes. Eragon manages a grin. "See you in the morning."

At about four in the morning, I go downstairs to see Brom, who is smoking a pipe. How _he _was up at that time, I really did not know.

"Eragon has had the dream. We leave today."

Brom stands from the chair and tosses my saddlebag.

"Saddle Linden. I'll do Snowfire. Then wake Eragon."

I do as Brom ordered, doing a quick rub down of Linden before I race upstairs.

"Eragon! We're leaving."

"Now?"

"Yes! Grab your saddlebag and mount Cadoc! Brom's got everything else."

I dress in my travelling cloak with a hood, so no one can see my face, and a pair of leggings.

Eragon does as ordered, and within half an hour, we are mounted on our horses.


	18. Leaving Teirm

**Chapter 18**

**Leaving Teirm**

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," Brom says, putting his feet into his stirrups. "You were most gracious."

He turns to Helen, who has gone red with anger or some similar emotion. "You have a good husband; take care of him. There are few men as brave and determined as he is. But even he cannot weather the difficult times without help and support from those he loves."

Helen took a step backwards, face flushed and molten.

"Only a suggestion, dear lady," Brom said quietly. She took another step back, as if he had a contagious disease, and furiously slammed the door with a clang. Jeod gave a huge sigh and accepted Eragon's thanks and mine. Jeod paused, and reached into his tunic, bringing out a book.

"You are one unique child," he comments. "You help others when you yourself are in danger. You can have anything in the world, but haven't the most basic things a child needs. I honour you for that. You are a great person. So I want you to have this."

He passes the book to me. Unlike the books at home, the cover is painted, but with such care that it puts even Da Vinci to shame. I flick the pages. Each word is hand written in a lovely, flowing text. Inside is a dagger in the sheath. The sheath it part of a belt. It is adorned in green markings. I unsheath the blade. The light gleams off the midnight black edge and set into the pommel is an emerald.

"I know you have a sword, but it would make me feel more comfortable with a dagger as well."

I belt on the dagger.

"Thank you so much Jeod. I will honour you."

Jeod gives Eragon an oval container, made of delicate glass, surrounded by a swirling golden dragon. Inside it holds water.

"This is a very precious object, perhaps one of the rarest in my home. This is a scrying glass, forged by the elves of Ellesméra. The glass will never break, nor will the dragon bend, as it is made of pure gold. The water you see inside it is teardrops. You must never put normal water in there, as the added powers of hearing, and smell will be compromised. I advise you to add to it whenever you can, although the lid will not let so much as a drop escape it."

Eragon accepts the gift, a look of astounded thankfulness on his face.

"I will remember you Jeod," he says simply. He doesn't need to say anything else. His face says it all.

"And Brom. I remember you pouring over this map when we first met. Then, I was reluctant to let you have it. Now I realise that you need it more than I. Here, take it."

Brom looks amazed as he takes the rolled up scrap of parchment. It is yellowing with age, torn and ripped, but has an air of mystery around it, like a treasure map. I know at once from the way Brom is holding it that it is precious. He tucks he map carefully into one of the pouches of his belt.

"Goodbye old friend," Brom says thickly. Jeod smiles and waves and Brom turns Snowfire, leading them out towards Teirm's south gate. Eragon and Brom talk about werecats before Saphira joins us. It is not the first time that she has made such an entry, but I still feel as awed as ever. Eragon has no such qualms: he leaps off Snowfire and runs to her, sitting on her back. Saphira takes off and I am left to catch the startled Cadoc and lead him alongside Linden.

"He makes quite a few rough decisions Eragon does."

"Oh yes. That son of mine resembles me in my early years. We'll start by testing your Conjuring skills. I want ten quartz stones in my palm. No magic."

I concentrate on the quartz stones in my mind's eye, paying attention to every detail, multiplying them as I Conjure them. As they start to appear, I direct them into Brom's palm. Ten quartz stones fall into Brom's cupped hands. Brom almost spills them.

"Good work. Now change them into rocks."

I concentrate hard on all ten quartz stones and fix a picture of a normal grey, smooth stone in my mind. I am careful not to think of a painting or a photo of a stone, otherwise I would get half of a picture.

In little more than five seconds, a pile of perfectly smooth stones has replaced the quartz stones.

Brom sets me a number of strenuous tests, which keeps me occupied until Saphira drops out of the sky, and Eragon mounts Cadoc. Saphira takes off again, circling us.

Brom and Eragon talk again, while I concentrate on practicing.

We stop at the end of the day and I recall with a jolt that this is the day where Eragon is attacked by Urgals and breaks his wrist. Brom lights a fire and cooks. Eragon stands up and says, "I'll go look for water."

I leap up and grab his arm.

"No! Brom, put out the fire! Eragon, stay with us! You'd better tell Saphira to come as well."

"What is going on?"

"Urgals," I spit. "I should have remembered."

Saphira lands beside the horses and all of them whinny and try and pull away from her.

Brom's face became harsh and stern. "We will talk about this later. Eragon, saddle the horses. Emily, keep a lookout. Swords out."

A nod and draw my sword. I have hardly used it, save for the time we are practising. I certainly haven't used it on a real opponent before. It feels heavy, but it is a reassuring, sturdy weight. All of a sudden, I realise that I haven't named my sword yet.

_That can wait till later, _I decide.

"They're saddled," Eragon says in a loud whisper. I swing myself into the saddle, never letting go of my sword. Brom does likewise but says, "Eragon! Go on Saphira! I'll lead Cadoc."

"But-"

"No time to argue! Go!"

Eragon leaps off Cadoc and mounts Saphira. Saphira leaps into the air, extending her massive wings, and hovers directly over us. Brom kicks at Snowfire's flanks and he rears and gallops away. I nudge Linden forwards: she immediately goes straight from a standstill to a gallop, Saphira still overhead. I reach for Eragon's mind. He recognises me and lowers his barriers tentatively.

_If you have to, land in front of them. Do _not _use jierda. Do not speak to them. Use a rock and send it through their half-rotten brains. Promise me Eragon._

_I promise._

I break away from the link. Linden and Snowfire are still galloping, but a horn is sounded. An Urgal horn. It has to be. And it's close. But, now it has faded away. There is complete silence: only the beat of Saphira's wings and the thud of the horse's hooves. Then, the Urgal horn sounds from far away. I reach for Brom's mind, every detail of the book is clear.

_Do not be fooled. Do not slow down. They are still chasing us._

I stay in Brom's mind long enough to hear a grim acknowledgement, and, I realise he is speeding up.

Suddenly there is a hard, coarse shout from behind me.

"They're here!" I scream to Brom.

"I know!" he yells back. The Urgals are gaining. Faster than horses, and horses can run at almost 50 miles an hour. I take out by bow and quickly string it, thanking Brom at the same time. He did not rest until I could string it in the shortest time possible. The quiver of arrows is still slung over my back. Carefully, I stand up on Linden's saddle and cautiously turn around until I am sitting in the saddle the other way round. I grasp an arrow; nock it into place and fire. An Urgal is wounded in the leg, but keeps on going. This time I aim for the neck. The Urgal goes down. A rock speeds past me and buries itself in the monster's head. Saphira dives, crushing multiple Urgals as she lands. The Urgals shrink in fright as Saphira gives a bone-shattering roar. One of the Urgals attempts to speak, but Saphira cleaves him in two. Brom wheels around, a look of anger on his face. I turn around in the saddle, facing the right way again, slow Linden, and turn her, so I am next to Brom. I draw my sword but Brom gives a shake of the head.

"Do not attack unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I do not want you killed needlessly. Do not summon anything either. This secret stays with us. Not the Urgals and definitely not Galbatorix."

I nod. With my other hand I grip the dagger hidden beneath my hooded cloak. An Urgal skirts Saphira and attacks Brom. Another Urgal does the same, bypassing Saphira and launching himself at me. I instinctively block and parry him, and when he swings his mace, I stab him through the neck. I watch him fall to the floor. And suddenly I sway in the saddle, exhausted as if I'd used magic, but a strange feeling wells up inside my heart. It takes me a moment to identify it, even if I can't properly feel it yet. It is sadness. Guilt. I have taken a life. I let go of my dagger and hold the saddle as another bout of dizziness racks me, and I turn and throw up over Linden's side.

_I had to do it, _I argue with myself. _It was the Varden or him._

_You are a murder._

_No! Any court would call that self defence._

_Any court would still send you to prison._

_He came at me with a spiked hammer! How else was I supposed to respond to that?_

My thoughts are in turmoil. I barrier my mind ferociously as I feel Brom trying to contact me, but reluctantly give way to him. I try to disguise my misery, which has arrived in full force, but that is like holding back a tsunami.

_You are upset. I understand._

_Again. Why am I always like this? Can't I be strong._

Brom does not shrink from the anger or misery poisoning my mind. Instead he shows me an image. An image of me and Jeod and Brom playing Monopoly. I am teaching Jeod and Brom how to play. We are having a great time, laughing. Then, when we are sparring, and Brom is praising me on my speed and stamina.

_You are strong. Strength is not barring yourself from misery. Strength is _conquering _misery. Remember what is at stake. Imagine those drajil twins, and the satisfaction of ridding two poisonous traitors from the Varden. Imagine the work that you will do once you get there. You will be safe there and happy. Just weather this through, okay? _

_Okay._

Brom retreats from my mind, and almost immediately, I feel a fierce satisfaction cleanse my mind. I have got rid of a dangerous enemy of the Varden, and to every sane person in Alagaësia. I am eager to prove myself again. The Urgal's disembowelled bodies are strewn all over the hills. Saphira is cleaning her bloodstained claws with her barbed tongue.

"Fly, Saphira," Brom says. "Fly overhead. Find a good place to camp. I will follow with the horses."

I realise that I have still got my sword out. I hastily put it away, making sure to clean it on an old rag that I have summoned. Brom raises an eyebrow.

"You should name it."  
>"My sword?"<p>

"Yes."

I sheath it, eyebrows furrowed. I can't think of a name. I want it to be a name of power that fits the sword completely. That fits my mission and the sword's as well.

Sundav. Shadow. Someone working behind the scenes. The fear of shadows. Death.

I tell Brom.

"I don't know anything about naming swords," I say almost apologetically. "But would Sundav be okay?"

"Shadow? Yes. A good name for a blade. Call it Sundav if you so wish."  
>"Very well."<p>

I draw my sword, and study it. It is far from the quality of the elf blades in Ellesméra, but just right for me.

"Sundav it is."  
>"Here. Give it to me."<br>"Why?"

"I want to inscribe it."

I hesitate and then pass the sword to Brom. He takes it and holds a palm over it, muttering a few inaudible words. A symbol appears on the pommel. He does the same to the other side, and the sheath, and hands it back. The symbol seems to move with a shadowy fluidness. We enter a thickly wooded forest and trudge on.

A few hours later, Saphira spirals down. It is a small clearing in the forest. We settle down, and I make tomatoey pastery thing. That's what we used to call it. We used to have it every Wednesday without fail. Second and third helpings are accepted gratefully by everyone. Still warm, we eat ravenously, and I top it off with a Granny small sized portion of her apple crumble. And, for those that don't know, a Granny small portion could feed four ravenous Kull, who have been starved for five days. By the time we have finished, we are stuffed.

"Right. Emily."  
>"Yes?"<p>

"You should have remembered this."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

"From now on, you read on, every night before you go to bed. No slip ups."

"Okay."

"Good. Eragon? How are you."

"I'm good," he groaned. "A bit achy."  
>"Emily?"<p>

"I'm fine."

"To bed then. Chop, chop!"

I summon the sleeping bags and get into my one. Brom has advised that I use my sister's black one, rather than my light blue one. And before I go to sleep, I Conjure a torch and read some more of Eragon. Nothing interesting. But we need to decide whether we go to Dras Leona or straight to the Varden. Eragon is in danger in Dras Leona, but that is where we need to go if we are going to rescue Arya.

In the morning, I relate my fears.

"We can't go to Dras Leona without getting you killed," I say. "We need to go to Gil'ead."

"I think you are right. We'll go to Gil'ead."

We follow the mossy track back out of the Spine. The coats are needed again, and I keep a firm hold of Sundav as we ride. Two days of hard riding are needed to get out of the Spine. I consult the map once we are out.

"We'll have to go back across the plain," I groan.

"That's the least of our problems," Brom says, and we head out onto the flat land.

On the second day, we are greeted by the familiar biting wind. Brom doesn't let us slack in our training, and that night, Brom and I can clash for over an hour with frightening speed and strength. Eragon has finally managed to defeat Brom, but I haven't, so Brom is still drilling me. One day, Brom sets me a task: to Conjure a whole house. I fix our house in my mind's eye, careful not to let my family into it. I call it and suddenly, there is the feeling of it being there. I open my eyes. The house is there. My heart thuds as my legs crumple and I collapse. My eyes close. The last thing I hear is Eragon's voice yelling, "Emily!"

I open my eyes. I am lying on my sleeping bag. I push myself up, not technically upright but still elevated. I don't feel exhausted. I don't know why I collapsed, but it was certainly not from lack of energy. Perhaps it is simply the price of Conjuring.

Brom notices. He comes over.

"Sorry Emily," he says gruffly. "I shouldn't have let you do that."

"I feel great," I say. "I don't think it was dangerous. I think if I overstep the mark, I collapse. I don't have any energy gone."

Brom's face hardens. "That does not prove that this is not dangerous. Don't Conjure again without me here, and certainly don't try anything as big as that again. It was my fault this time."

Eragon is next to me. "How long was I gone?" I ask him.

"A few hours," he replies.

"A few hours?" Dread seeps through me. "But the house! It's still there!"

"We haven't moved on," Eragon assures me. "We needed you to Banish it."

I stand up. "Brom!"

"Yes?"

"I need to get rid of this house."  
>"Yes. But this time, we're going to link up and I'll give you some energy. Yes I know you said that it doesn't deplete your strength," he says, glaring at me. I close my mouth. "But it's better safe than sorry. We're off the beaten track now; we don't know what's going to happen. Even you can't help us, so we have to be prepared for anything. Link up. Now."<br>I reluctantly remove my barriers. I shiver as Brom enters my mind.

_Focus, Emily._

I shake my head and clear my mind of everything except from the house. I feel a steady stream of energy pouring in me. I close my eyes and Banish the house. I feel it vanishing. For the second time that day I collapse onto the earth. I struggle to sever the connection. I don't want to drag Brom with me…

I wake to the sound of rhythmic beats of wings. My eyes open and stare at the sapphire blue stone. The sight jolts me fully awake. I am miles up in the air. I gasp.

_Saphira! It's beautiful._

_Welcome back little one._

I smile and hold on tight to the spike in front of me. We are high up. The biting wind is still here, but it only adds to the thrill of being up in the air.

_I always dreamed of flying, _I say.

_I'm glad you like it. Would you like a few dives?_

_The greatest rollercoaster in the world? I'm there!_

_What? Is that a yes?_

_Definitely! Swoop away!_

_Hold on then! _

Saphira pulls into a dive, the wind racing past my ears. I laugh; the adrenaline is pumping through me. She gives me an image of her twisting and turning and I mentally nod. She does a roll in mid air, then a flip, and then somersaults, over and over and over, until she snaps out her wings, stabilising herself. I am breathless.

_Oh my gosh._

_Like it?_

_Oh my gosh ohmygoshomygosh!_

Her head swings round to face me and gives a growling noise which I interpret as laughter. I laugh too.

_Where are Brom and the others?_

_Do not worry. They are beneath us._

_Ah._

I look down and see Brom and Eragon mounted on their horses, and Linden is being led by Eragon. I am pleased to see that they are all okay.

_After you fainted, we decided that the best thing to do was to trust me with your welfare as I do not let people fall as those deer animals do. _

_I am honoured._

I reach for Brom's mind and he slams up his barriers while he identifies me and reluctantly lets me in.

_I am well._

_Good. Nice to see Saphira is keeping you safe._

_Yes. How long was I out for?_

_About the same as last time. A couple of hours at the most. We can see Gil'ead._

_Really?_

I lean forwards, straining my eyes.

_Oh yes, I can see it. Will we reach it tonight?_

_I suspect so. I need you to read up on what happens in Gil'ead once we are there. Don't try any Conjuring now._

_Very well._

Brom severs the connection and I sigh and lean back. Saphira dives towards the ground and Brom tells Saphira to hide and I mount Linden.

We get to Gil'ead just before dark and pay for a room in a bar. We go upstairs and discuss our plan of action.

"I can't tell what is about to happen," I say. "We're too far off track for me to be any good. All we know is that Arya is here, in the prison."

"So we break into the jail?"

"Could do. But Durza is also here. The Shade."

Brom shivers.

"Any way we could send him a message to go to Urû'baen?" Eragon asks.

"I don't think that would be possible," Brom says. "Emily, do your world have any weapons that are more high tech than ours?"

"Yes," I say. "But I'll need a moment. I haven't seen a gun in ages."

"A gun?"

"Wait," I say. I close my eyes and reach into my mind, like I do when I'm hunting for magic. I find my childhood memories and sift through them. There! A policeman walking down the street with a gun.

"I have the memory," I say, not opening my eyes. "Now for the Conjuring."

I focus on the image, every detail clear. I Conjure. There it is. I feel it before I see it.

"What is it?" Eragon asks, stretching out his hand.

"No!" I shout, and Eragon withdraws his hand.

"Set it off and any one of us could be dead. Here."

I pick up the gun. It is heavy.

"As long as a bullet pierces the Shade's heart, he will die."

Brom nods. "We'll need three of them."  
>"Not a problem," I say and close my eyes.<p> 


	19. Jailbreak

**Chapter 19**

**Jailbreak**

The plan is set. We are to go in there and kick butt, shoot the Shade if we see him, rescue the elf and ride.

"Use these sparingly," I say. "They only have a few rounds in them."

Eragon nods and accepts his.

We ride to the prison in the morning and ask to see our friend. The man barely looks at us before waving us through.

"Be careful," Brom hisses. "We don't know where he is."

My eyes are flashing. The last cell has the elf in.

"We'll need her weapons in the guard room," I say. Brom nods. "I'll go to the guard room. You stay here."

Moments later he returns with a sheath and bow. Brom nods at me. "You do it."

I reach out for the lock mentally and push it into the unlocked position. There is a barely audible click. The door swings open.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Brom! Grab Arya! I'll hold them off."

I draw Sundav and stab a man through the gut. With a bellow, ten more rush at me. I block and parry and slice, Eragon at my side, and soon, a mound of bodies are at my feet. I shudder, suppressing a sob. This is not the time.

Brom is carrying Arya. I charge towards the exit. _Yes, yes, yes! _

Suddenly a hooded figure blocks our route.

_NO!_

I lift up my gun. Eragon does the same. My finger coils on the trigger.

"How do you know of the elf? Who are you?" The Shade demands.

"Get out of the way," I snarl and fire. It hits his arm. The Shade's eyes narrow, barely considering it. "What are those weapons?"

"Shade killers," I say and fire again. It hits his chest. Did I hit his heart? _Did I hit the heart? _The Shade loosens a terrible scream, his skin becoming transparent and swirling around like grey mist. He disappears.

"I killed him!" I say in disbelief.

"Time for celebrations later," Brom grunts, as we rush outside. Saphira is waiting for us. We put Arya on her back and mount Cadoc and Snowfire.

"Go with Saphira," Brom yells. "Keep Arya safe!"

I hesitate then run to Saphira, leaping up her side.

"Go!" I scream at Saphira and she takes off, soaring through the air, faster than a falcon, faster than a Bugatti.

Saphira only slows to keep an eye on Brom and Eragon. I decide to contact the elf.

_Saphira, I need you to help me. She may attack me._

_Agreed._

I frown and reach for Arya's mind. It is as clear as a bell. I shiver. It feels wrong. Invading her mind like this.

Suddenly a dagger is driven into me. Saphira tries to block it but recoils.

_Arya, eka cel__ö__bra ono un mulabra ono n__é__ haina! __Eka a__í_ _fricai!_

Arya hesitates. Her dagger is withdrawn and she warily lets me into her mind.

_Arya! My name is Emily._

_Greetings. Why have you contacted me in this manner? _

_We have just rescued you from Gil'ead's prison. I wanted to tell you who I am._

_Yes?_

I show her an image of me, being sucked into the books, the trials we have had, and Conjuring.

_Everything I have shown you is the truth, _I say, repeating myself in the ancient language.

_You come from another world? You know what is and has been?_

_Yes. I need to get to the Varden, as do you. I want you to know that both Brom and a new Rider is looking after you as well. His dragon, Saphira is here as well._

_Greetings._

_Saphira Bjartskular. You have my thanks._

_You are welcome._

_But now I must conserve my strength. Goodbye._

I am disappointed at the break in the connection, but I relay to Brom what I have learnt.

_We need to get to the Varden._

_I know. Don't stop tonight. We need to get away from the city. And Arya needs to get to the Varden before the poison takes hold. _

Brom gives a mental nod and breaks away from the contact.

We fly to the Ramr River and Brom contacts me again.

_Emily, land. We need to discuss our route._

_Okay. Saphira will be landing soon._

I forward the message to Saphira. She does not reply, but angles down and gently loses altitude.

At touchdown, I jump off and Saphira snakes her head around to hear what we are saying.

"Saphira is getting tired out," I say. "She can't handle the two of us."

Saphira blinks. I put my hand on her flank and pour some energy into her.

_It's the least I can do._

Saphira emanates gratitude.

"What if I Conjure up some mode of transport from my world and go across the Hadarac?" I say. The audacity of the idea stuns me, and by the look on Eragon and Brom's face, it has stunned them as well.

"What about the horses?" asks Brom.

"I can do a horsebox," I say. "Besides, the Hadarac will be tough to cross on foot. With a Land Rover or something, we can get across there faster than anyone in history!"

"I think you're right. But what if it knocks you unconscious?"

"Then you may do as you please."  
>"Good. Conjure it when we get over."<p>

Poor Saphira has to fly us over again, Brom first, then Eragon, then the horses and me. She is exhausted. She could barely lift one horse off the ground, much less three. But she managed it. Brom and Eragon give Saphira some energy and her tail no longer droops and she doesn't feel as if she's about to fall over.

I fix my mind on a Land Rover and a horsebox attached to each other. I Conjure it, feel it, and hear both Eragon and Brom gasp. I help Arya in. She slumps on the chair, so I belt her up. I close the door and go round the other side, pulling at the door handles.

"Get in," I grin, opening the door. "I'll put the horses in the box. Oh, and use these. There should be a belt somewhere…"

I show Eragon and Brom how to use the seatbelts, but they are so stunned that they don't move. I shrug and go and help the horses.

Thankfully, the box is a big one, so all three horses fit perfectly. They are nervous about going up the ramp, but a few carrots soon cure my problems. I shut up the horse box and get in the driver's side.

"Do you know how to handle this thing?" Brom asks.

"Sure," I shrug, turning the key in the ignition. It's an automatic, so I don't have to change gears. Some luck. Finally. "You push this pedal to stop," I say, putting it in Drive. "And you push _this _pedal, when you want to make some noise." I push the pedal and the car shoots off like a shot. I ease of the accelerator and look in the wing mirror.

"Oh, by the way, did I tell you that I haven't driven before?"

Both Eragon and Brom reach for the seatbelts.

We make steady work, thanks to my new toy. I still haven't mastered the windscreen wipers yet, and I can hardly see out of the windscreen.

"So, if _that _one is the lights, this one must be…" I fiddle with a stick.

"Aha!" I say, as the wipers remove most of the dirt from the window.

Travelling at twentyish miles an hour, we make good progress. Along the way, I give Eragon and Brom a heads up about what is going to happen. Brom says that if the slavers are still there, we should kill them. Eragon tries to protest, but Brom turns on him.

"If the slavers make it to the Empire, the king might hear about this! Then what will become of us?"

"But Galbatorix won't leave Urû'Baen," I cry. "Surely we won't have to kill them?"

"We will see."

I feel sick. I take a look at the compass I taped to the dashboard. We need to head southeast. We don't stop all day. I give them food to eat in the back and drink, and Eragon manages to trickle some water through Arya's lips.

"She doesn't look good."

"All the more reason to get to the Varden," I agree.

In the evening, I spot something up ahead.

_Saphira. Ahead. Is that…?_

I feel amazement.

"Hey! Guys! Look ahead!"

Brom and Eragon crane their necks to see round my headrest.

"I just see the sky…" Eragon shakes his head in disbelief. "I knew the Beor Mountains were huge, but not that huge!"

"The Beors? You weren't joking Emily!"

"Of course not."

"We'd better get a bit closer to the Beors before we Banish the…car," Brom says, remembering the word.

"Come on! Why do we have to abandon the Land Rover?"

"If anyone finds out…?"

"Oh…yeah. Okay. Say when to stop."

I drive across a few more miles.

"Stop here," Brom says. I gently press on the brake. I am getting better at driving. I don't jolt forwards.

"There."

"We'll get the horses out of the box."

The horses seem to be okay. We lead them down the ramp and I Banish the Land Rover.

"Good. Now we ride," Brom orders

Already I miss the air conditioned interior of the Land Rover. The heat of the desert is so hot, way hotter than the hottest day of our summer. I mount up and take the reins. Linden snorts and prances backwards. She's a little skittish after being in the trailer. I gently pull on the reins, and Linden stops. I press against her flanks and Linden starts to walk. I keep looking at the Beors. Their snow crested peaks are too high to be seen. Each mountain seemed like it was a hundred times larger than the Spine's mountains. It looked as if the jagged teeth of the world wanted to swallow them whole.

We don't seem to get any closer to the mountains, but the Hadarac's sand is giving way to dirt and a cool breeze is flitting through the air. It is so refreshing after the stifling humidity of the desert.

"Look! A stream!"

Eragon laughs with pleasure. "We're out! We are out of that ball of dust!"

"Yes, we've done well. But we must remain on guard. We're ahead of schedule, but the Urgals could still be going to Orthíad," Brom says.

"I can take the first watch."

Brom looks at me.

"No. You're both tired. I'll take first watch. Eragon will take the second and Emily can take the third. Saphira, would you mind taking the fourth?"

_Of course not._

I don't protest. The heat has consumed all my energy. I simply Conjure sleeping bags for us, Brom lights a fire, and I settle down, Conjuring a white fluffy cat teddy called Millie and almost immediately go to sleep. No sooner I'm asleep I feel something interrupt a dream. It was a horrible one, I know that.

"Hey! Emily! _Wake up."_

Someone is shaking my shoulder. Hard. Suddenly I'm awake.

"Yes?"

"Your watch."

"Oh…yeah."

Three hours of boredom. Saphira's watch after this. I try and remember what my dream was.

"You don't look too good," Eragon says. I Conjure a mirror and invoke, "Brisingr!" A fire flares in mid air. I look into the mirror. I'm covered in sweat, my eyes are wide and hair everywhere. My pupils are contracted in terror. I try and relax. Every muscle in my body is tense. I extinguish the light and Banish the mirror.

"You were rolling around in your bed. Muttering things," Eragon says. "Bad dream?"

"I…I…I think so."

"Did you have nightmares a lot? Back home?"

Home. The word flashes up a load of images in my head. What I dreamed. I was in Tronjheim. I had a portal. Back home. Whether I stayed, or went. My mother was in the portal, pleading for me to go back home. Brom and Eragon were clutching my hand.

_You promised you'd help us!_

_Emily! Please come back home!_

I quickly withdraw my hand from Eragon's. I shiver.

"Emily?" The tone is uncertain. Cautious.

"Eragon, would you be upset if I…left."

"Left? Where?"

"Home."

"Of course I would," Eragon cries.

"Would you try and stop me?"

"No," he bites off the word immediately. "Not a chance."

"Do you think Brom would?"

"No."

"Eragon, I don't know which world I belong to! My family is in one, but adventure and a place where I am treasured are in the other!"

"If you get a choice, go home, I won't stop you," says Eragon. There is a moment of silence.

"I never knew exactly how much I loved Uncle until he went," Eragon tells me quietly. Almost whispering.

"If you have a chance to go back there again, I think you should take it. Because if you don't, you'll regret that you led a life of lies instead of being truly loved."

"This life isn't a lie!" I say hotly.

"Then, why is our future written in a book?" asks Eragon. I sit stunned. I never thought of that. Eragon watches for a few moments and heads back to the sleeping bags. I am left to stare into space and wonder.

When my assigned hours are up, I gently nudge Saphira's mind out of a dream about eating deer.

_Yes? What is wrong?_

_My most humble apologies Bjartskular. It is your watch now._

_Very well. _

She pauses.

_What is wrong?_

_I'm…confused at the moment. Please, I need to figure this out for myself._

Saphira withdraws from my mind as she uncoils. The last thing I hear from her is, _I love you little one._

_Oh great, _I think to myself, making sure Saphira has left. _More complications. _


	20. The Beor Mountains

**Chapter 20**

**The Beor Mountains**

As we approach the Beors, Brom takes the lead, and goes east along the mountains. The bases of them are a few miles wide, the length, no one knew, but I suspect that each is several times higher than our Mount Everest.

_I must eat, _Saphira announces. _It has been days since I last ate. If I hurry, I may be able to catch some of those bounding deer for a few mouthfuls. _

_Go. But leave Arya here._

_I will be swift, _assures Saphira and descends. Eragon and Brom unties the elf from her back and loads her onto Snowfire. Saphira spreads her wings and bounds into the air, catching the wind, and swooping over to the nearest mountain. Saphira returned in an hour and a half, accepted Arya, and took flight, gliding over our strange group once more. The day in monotonous and exhausting. That night, I grab a few bags from the chippie that appear from nowhere. We completely clean out the first lot, so I order some more, with hot dogs, chicken, coke, burgers…the lot. We all eat about fifty times more than we thought we could, and at the end of it, Brom lets out a huge burp.

"Sorry," he says, and Eragon and I chuckle.

"That was the only highlight of this miserable day," Eragon says happily. "You really do come up with the best food."

"Oh good," I say. "I do love being the chef."

We make camp. There is no sign of Urgals or traders. We are simply alone. Alone with each other. I take first watch and stare in silence, pacing up and down. A dim noise snaps my head around. I recognise that noise. An Urgal horn. It has to be. It's far away. Barely audible. But there.

"Wake up!" I hiss, shoving at Brom. He wakes instantly, drawing a knife. He sees me and sheaths it. His face is worried.

"What is it?"

"Kull!"

Brom's expression hardens. "Saddle the horses. I'll wake Eragon. We're leaving."

I bolt for the bags, checking the girth, fixing the head collar over their heads, and strapping on the saddlebags. No sooner I've done that, than Eragon leaps onto Cadoc. Brom is on Snowfire. I swing myself up onto Linden. The fire is out. Our sleeping bags are still there.

"Hurry!" Brom hisses to me. I Banish the bags, as quick as thought, and Brom kicks at Snowfire's flanks. Snowfire goes from standing still to a canter in a flash, and then, to full out gallop. I urge Linden on. Cadoc and Eragon are already ahead.

_Saphira! Can you see them?_

_Yes._

_Where are they?_

_Why don't you see for yourself?_

Saphira tugs at my mind and I let myself go. I know what is about to happen. The Urgals are coming. They have crossed the Hadarac and the threshold of the mountains.

_This, _I say grimly, _is far too close for comfort._

_We could fight._

_But if even one escapes and tells Galbatorix…_

_They are headed to Orthíad. They would not dare defy his orders. And, at Farthen Dûr, they will almost certainly be killed. _

_At Farthen Dûr? Oh no!_

_What is the matter?_

_Durza! If he was dead then the Urgals would be free from his control! They are still headed for Orthíad! Which means-_

_Durza's alive. _Saphira says this calmly.

_No time to think about that now. Contact Brom and Eragon. Tell them if you so wish. But focus on escape. The Battle of Farthen Dûr will come, but not now. _

_Thank you Saphira._

I relay to Brom and Eragon what I've learnt. They both seem to have the same outlook as Saphira.

_If we had the Land Rover, I could easily outrun them._

_But if the King gets word of this –_

_They're headed for battle. They will probably die anyway. But I'd rather have rumours about us than being thrown into a cell and have every secret extracted from us by slow torture._

Brom hesitates. Up ahead, I see Snowfire grind to a halt.

_Fine. But be quick!_

I leap of Linden as she slows to a trot, and, without losing a second, Conjure the Land Rover and horsebox. We load the horses and then load ourselves. I turn the key in the ignition and gun the engine. The Land Rover shoots forward. I remember my seat belt, just in time. Eragon and Brom have already got theirs on.

I go as fast as I can. Linden and the horses are the least of my concerns now. All that matters is that we reach the Varden in time. We have another few days.

I don't rest. I can't sleep. I drive as fast as I can. Brom and Eragon take a nap in the back. I fiddle with the stick. Windscreen wipers. Wrong one. Aha! Lights. I switch it on. Better. Much better. I drive on through the night and the next morning. When we stop for a break, Brom confronts me.

"You _cannot _do all the driving."

"I'm the only one who knows how."

"Teach me."

"Brom! We don't have time for this! One more day! Please. We can't waste time."

Brom relents. "Fine. Any dangerous driving on your part or if we haven't reached the Varden by tomorrow and I'm taking over."

"Fine."

I get back in the drivers seat. Brom gets in the passenger seat and Arya and Eragon are in the back.

"How is Arya?" Brom asks.

"Hot," replies Eragon. He pulls out a rag, muttering, "Adurna!" The rag suddenly becomes damp and Eragon presses it against her forehead.

I make some stupid mistakes. I drive over rocks. I drive into rough ground. I even almost crashed into a wall.

"Right! That's it. I drive," snaps Brom. I'm not listening.

"Brom…is that…"

Brom's face displays wonder.

"Kóstha-mérna," we say at exactly the same moment. 

"Huh?" Eragon says.

"We have reached the Varden," Brom says softly.

Eragon cheers and rushes to help lift Arya out of the Land Rover. I unload the horses. They are even more skittish than last time.

"Sorry," I mutter, leading them out. "Dangerous driver, that's me."

Linden simply whinnied in response and nuzzles my ear. I laugh and Banish the Land Rover. I lift Arya onto Snowfire. We walk to the waterfall. It is an avalanche of pure white fury. Its strength makes me shiver.

"Drop your socks and grab your crocks," I say. "We're about to get wet on this ride."

I urge Linden forwards

"We certainly are," Brom says, and mounts Snowfire. He trots reluctantly into the water. He stumbles, but catches himself again.

"We're going through the _waterfall_?" Eragon says in disbelief as he puts a foot into the stirrup.

"Yep," I say, from Linden's back.

"Careful girl," I whisper in the ancient language. "Unstable footing."

Linden seems to hear me. She goes at a steady pace, tripping a few times, but nothing serious. As we approach the falls, Linden is forced to swim. We are almost at the waterfall. Eragon and Brom are behind me. I prepare to do the same. Then I hear a horn.

"Go!" I yell. I kick at Linden's flanks and close my eyes. Freezing, icy, wet water worms its way into my clothes and soaks me to the bone. I am forced under the water, the combined weight of my sword, clothes, and everything else. I tumble off Linden, as I sink down and down. I think of what could save me. I can't think now. Can't see. Blue is everywhere. I close my eyes. I am going to die. The last thing I remember is something snagging my collar.

I feel something push on my chest and suddenly convulse, coughing. Water spills out of my mouth. I cough a few more times until the water is out of my lungs. I breathe quickly a few times and take a look around.

I am curled on the side of the lake, on the other side of the waterfall. A group of short, stocky men stand on the shores watching me, and a dwarf is bent down next to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say breathlessly. "I'm fine. But my friends-"

"Out of the way," snapped a bald man, pushing the dwarf aside. He grabs my collar and lifts me to my feet, drawing a dagger. I try and take a step backwards, but the bald man simply grabs my arm, turns me around and presses the knife to my throat.

"Please help Ar-" I whisper.

"None of that!" says the man, pressing the knife harder.

"Arya! Help her!"

"I warned you," says the bald man. "Do not talk again."

Suddenly, a dwarf jumps up. "Are you deaf Egraz Carn? Can't you hear that she mentioned Arya? What has happened to her, girl?"

"She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh. Please, give her the Tûnivor's Nectar."

"Where is she?" asks the man on the horse.

"With Brom and Eragon."

"Brom?"

"She lies," says the bald man instantly. "Brom is dead."

"No," I say. "He hid."

"Be quiet," snapped the man.

In a few minutes, Brom and Eragon's horses stagger up the hill.

"Eragon!" I cry. Brom turns a hard face to the Twin.

"Let her go."

"She has not been tested!"

"Believe me; you do not want to test her. Or me. Let her go."

The bald man's grip tightened for a second, then releases me.

"You will still have to see Ajihad."

We turn towards the huge gates. They are twelve foot thick and open as if part of the cliff.

"You will follow us," snaps a Twin.

"Very well," says Brom. We go through the gates, then turn right and hurry down the corridor. The man moved with surprising speed and suddenly we are in a huge room.

"Brom and your friends will go straight to Ajihad," snarled the Twin.

We go down a few corridors and knock on a door barred by two men.

"The new arrivals seek an audience with you," said the Twin.

"Admit them," was the reply.

The door was opened.

We walk through the room, and stop at Ajihad's chair.

"Welcome Brom," says Ajihad. He is a dark skinned man who radiates power.

"And I would like to learn your names as well, guests."

"Eragon Garrowson, sir."

"The Rider?"

"Aye."

"Emily Harlen, sir,"

He fixes his gaze on me.

"Are you the Farseer?"

"I am."

"You told me that the Twins were traitors."  
>"Yes."<p>

"I will have to be sure of this. I will have them tested. There is word of a war."

"Indeed sir. Kull and Urgals are massing at Orthíad, which is being renamed Ithrö Zarda. They will attack from the tunnels."

Ajihad pauses.

"We are most fortunate to have you. May I ask how you know this?"

"With this," I say. I summon the book, _Eragon_ and it appears in a flash of light. Ajihad does not move, although his expression is one of unease.

"I come from another world and in my world, you are a book. I use the book to determine past and future events. And, as you can see, I also control the flow of objects from that world to this."

"Your skill is more than useful," Ajihad breathes. He pulls himself together and faces Eragon.

"Now, I would like to know your journey and route."

Eragon tells the story. A few times he stumbles, and Saphira, Brom or I chip in. At times, he stops Eragon and asks me about what the object was. I usually show him, except for the car, so I show him a small model. After our retelling, Ajihad falls silent.

"Your story is disturbing. Eragon, you say Emily killed Durza?"

"He didn't die," I interrupt. "I thought I got his heart, but now, I don't think I did. If I did get his heart, and he is indeed dead, then thousands of Urgals would not be hammering at your front door."

"With a gun? You have shown me a gun. I think we could use them on the front lines, that is, if the Varden do not have any objection."

"I do not mind being put to work for the good of the Varden. Use me as you want."

"Good. Now, Eragon, Emily, Brom, good day to you. Orik!"

The dwarf that has saved me rushes in and bows. "Yes sir?"

"You rescued Emily. You opened the gates without permission. You disobeyed a direct order from a superior. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Perhaps I did wrong," Orik says, his eyes flickering to me. "Perhaps I should have let the founder of the Varden and a magician, a Farseer, and a Rider die. But even if it meant disobeying a direct order from a commander, I could not let that happen."

Ajihad's eyes narrow. "You did well. However, that does not change the problem. You _did _disobey a direct order from a commander and the penalty has always been death."  
>I keep quiet.<p>

_Trust me Eragon, do not interrupt or react._

_It's so unfair! He saved your life._

_And that is why Ajihad is going to place Orik in a very special position. _

"The penalty will be changed because of the circumstances. Orik, I hereby dismiss you from my active military service. And, to replace your duties, you will be the tour guide and helpers for our guests. Do you understand?"

Orik looked confused for a second, his face brightening. I swear I saw Ajihad smile, ever so slightly.

"I do."

"Good. You are dismissed. Send the Twins in when you leave."  
>"Yes sir."<p>

Orik gestures to us and we walk out of the study and along some random corridors.


	21. The Varden

Chapter 21

**The Varden**

We sit eating meat with Orik.

"Thank you Orik." I say. "You saved my life."

"Don't mention it," Orik says.

"Okay." Orik laughs.

We are shown to our sleeping quarters and Eragon is to sleep in the dragonhold with Saphira. I lose no time in improving the bed with special touches from home, and I sleep for ages before waking.

I wander through an empty corridor, trusting my memory to lead me back, when I suddenly come face to face with a Twin.

"You," snarled the Twin. He advances on me. I back away, drawing Sundav.

"Stay away!" I yell.

"You told Ajihad we were spies for Galbatorix! You ruined our cover. Now he is debating whether he is to kill us!"

Suddenly something has seized my wrist and has pried Sundav away from my hand. I freeze as a cold blade touches my neck. I daren't look around.

"I should kill you here and now," hisses the other Twin.

"Don't," replies the other. "Galbatorix may need her."

I reach out with my mind, loosing a huge mental shout.

_ERAGON! BROM! THE TWINS-_

Suddenly, the Twins are attacking my barriers so I abort my shout and concentrate on defending my mind. Suddenly, Saphira is there, shielding my mind as well.

_Hold on! Brom and Eragon are coming._

The Twins press me against the wall and tie my hands and ankles together with rope, and bundle me in a sack. The Twins are isolating my mind, so there is no hope of trying to contact anyone else. I quickly summon a small knife but I drop it. My summoning abilities can't help me here. Thanking my lucky stars that I never told anyone except Ajihad, Brom and Eragon that I was magic, I snap my fingers barely audibly and whisper, _"Brisingr!"_

A spark shoots from my fingertip, and a green flame bursts into existence. I press it against the side of the sack as the material burns through a hole big enough to escape. I wriggle through, and start running.

"Hey!"

I keep running.  
>"Get her!"<p>

I spot Sundav. I snatch it up and turn around. The pressure on my mind is lifted.

_We're on our way, Emily!_

_Hurry! I cannot hold them off for long!_

I parry a sword stroke and jump back as another Twin jabs at me. Then they both swing at me at the same time and I manage to block it. One Twins utters some words in the ancient language and I am lifted from the floor. I try and struggle free of his spell, but the Twin laughs and slaps me. I cry out in pain. The other Twin raises his sword-

"Emily!" Brom yells as he launches himself at the Twins. I lift up my head and struggle to lift my torso off the floor. Brom disarms both Twins and grabs my hand lifting me to me feet. The Twins take one glance at Brom and dart down the passageway.

"Are you okay?"

Eragon rushes in.

"Where are the Twins?"

"They did a runner."

"Where."

"That way," I say pointing. Eragon runs of in the direction I pointed. "Don't kill them!" I yelled after him.

"Maybe we should get this seen to," Brom says, touching my cheekbone. I wince and recoil.

"Just a bad bruise. _Waíse heill!"_

My face itches for a few seconds, but then the pain goes away.

"Thanks," I say, touching my cheekbone.

"I should have been able to defeat them! I could handle one, but why not two?" I exclaim.

"Don't worry about it. You don't have the strength of a Rider and the Twins are really powerful and with two of them up against you…it's amazing you held out for so long at your age."

"We need to report this to Ajihad."

"Leave that to me. Go and have a break."

I nod and go back outside to where the Varden are camped. The training fields are a mile east, but the preparation tents are here. I go and see what I can do for the cook tent.

"Yes? Who are you?" says a man.

"Emily. I came to help with the cooking."

"I'm Quoth Merrison. Do you want to be a permanent worker? You want me to hire you?"

"No. I just want to help, and I'll stay on for as long as necessary."

"Very well."

I follow Quoth into the cook tents.

"We have a new helper guys!" He turns to me. "Have you any experience in cooking?" he says.

"No," I say.

"How do you expect to help us then?"

"I can make good food appear out of mid air," I say. Quoth smiles.

"You are pulling my leg. You'd exhaust yourself to pieces even if you used magic."  
>"Watch me."<p>

I stretch out my hand and in a flash of yellow light, a plate of lovely cooked chicken appears.

"Lord of the Skies," whispers Quoth in awe.

"Would you like fries with that?" I grin.

I help Quoth all day until I am summoned by a small boy.

"Farseer," he bows. "Eragon and Ajihad asks you to meet them in Ajihad's study where you may discuss what happened earlier and the consequences of those actions."

I consider the request.

"Is your name Jarsha?" The boy paled and nodded. "My name is Emily. Pleased to meet you."

I stuck out my hand. The boy looked shocked. "But Farseer, I am only the messenger boy!"

"And? Does that mean that I can abandon all sense of honour? Does that mean that you have no dignity? With me, there are no ranks, only people to be respected."

Jarsha grins and bows.

"Thank you. Will you like me to lead you there?"

"Yes please Jarsha. Just hang on a second."

I go to the cook tents and apologise to Quoth. "I will come back as soon as I can."

"Go," says Quoth. "You have been a great help."

"Oh, Quoth? When you go back inside the cook tents, you will find ten prepared chickens on the table."

Quoth bowed. "Thank you Farseer."

"No, thank you Quoth, for letting me help the Varden." I bow in response and turn to Jarsha.

"Lead the way Jarsha!"

We go along a series of corridors I vaguely recognise, and appear at Ajihad's door.

"The Farseer, Emily is here! She requests an audience with

Ajihad," announces Jarsha.

"Enter," came the reply. The guards push open the door and I walk in, followed several steps behind me is Jarsha.

"You may go," Ajihad says to Jarsha. Jarsha bows, retreats, and closes the door. Eragon and Brom are standing opposite Ajihad.

"Emily, we need your opinion on the punishment of the Twins, as it was your life they tried to take."

I notice the Twins in shackles and surrounded by six guards. They spit on the ground as they see me.

"They have been drugged," says Ajihad says with a twisted smile. "An evil concoction, but necessary I suppose. You need not fear them."

I nod.

"Now, the matter of punishment. We were going to execute them, but without any proof, we were forced to let them go. And as you can see, that was a mistake. I must apologise profusely for my overconfidence. I believed that they would not dare to hurt you within the Varden. I was wrong."

"You need not apologise Ajihad," I say. "No one came to any harm, and, if my attempted murder had not happened, you would have no grounds to punish them."

"I am glad that it is in your heart to forgive me. Now, as it was your life they attempted to assassinate, would you like to see them killed as well?"

I almost take a step back. I struggle not to shudder.

"Kill them if you see fit Ajihad. You are the leader, and I cannot make your decisions for them. But, even as they are traitorous scum and assassins, not worthy of even sharing a pig's meal, it would do me no satisfaction to see them hanging from the gallows."

Ajihad looks at me. "Sometimes I forget you are only a child," he murmurs. "It is not right for one, such as you, to enjoy the death of others, even if they attempted to kill you."

"No. I do not object to you killing them if you see fit."

Ajihad nods. "Very well. I will have them killed. But if any of the spies find out about you, they will try to assassinate you also. I will put two guards under your control. They will protect you. Please resume your day. I apologise for this interruption. Brom, Eragon, Farseer, good day."

We bow and exit.

It is almost night. I go to the sleeping quarters and have a nice long sleep. I get up in the morning, wash, dress and brush my teeth. I go outside and see the multitude of tents. This is where most of the Varden live. I close my eyes, and, in a flash of light, Mum and Dad's tent is here. I pick up a mallet from the floor and knock some tent pegs into place. There are three sleeping quarters. In one I summon a pumped up double airbed and my sleeping bag, Multiplying it until there are two. I zip the two together until I have a sleeping bag that covers the double airbed. Clothes won't be a problem, so there is no clothes bag, or wash bag. I can easily summon them in the morning. In the other sleeping quarter, I put my weapons and equipment. I have one quarter free. I put my shoes in the corner of the tent with no floor so they won't muck the tent up. I keep Sundav and the dagger, but put the bow in the weapons quarter. I go outside and notice that everyone is looking towards me. A teenager, around seventeen, comes up to me.

"Nice tent," he says. "It's different to the others though."

"Oh," I say dumbly. "Yeah."

"Do you have a spare? My parents don't have a tent."

"Really? Take me to them. I'll give them a spare."

We walk to the far side of the tent field.

"Is it true?" he says, turning to me and stopping. "I heard from Quoth that you can Conjure good food out of midair. Is it true?"

"Yes," I say. The teenager's eyes widen. "And other stuff? Like tents and swords?"

"Yes," I say. "Although certain objects I might not be able to do."

"Cool," says the boy. "Here we are."

I don't believe it. Their tent is a cloak. They sleep on the ground. The mother and father are eating something that looks like mushrooms.

"Hey! Mum! Dad! This is the Farseer. Quoth told us about her, remember?"

"Oh yes," the father says, looking at me. "But Quoth often exaggerates."

"You need a tent," I say. The mother looks up sharply. "We can't afford one. Go away."

"Mother! She _can _make things appear. Show her Farseer!"

I stretch out my hand, palm down, and, in front of the mother, I make a plate of spaghetti with a knife and fork. The mother drops her mushroom on the grass.

"Eat it. It's nice."

The mother hesitantly takes a bite and then munches with apparent relish.

"It's delicious!"

I make three more plates. The father tries some, and the teenager. While they are eating, I summon a tent, knock the pegs into place, and make three double airbeds, topped with sleeping bags.

"You have a double bed all to yourself in each compartment," I say, sitting down. The family have almost finished their meal. They look behind them and gasp in delight. The father stands up. "Thank you Farseer. How can we ever repay you?"

"I don't need repaying," I say smiling. "But you are welcome nevertheless."

I go back to my tent and suddenly an old woman is there, followed by a cat. But this cat is different. I recognise him. He is…

_Solembum?_

_Obviously_ he says, with a shake of his shaggy coat.

"Angela? Is that you?"

"Did you really see through that disguise? Or is it just Solembum?" questions Angela.

"Solembum," I admit. Angela sighs. "I would have preferred it if he stayed, but he came instead. Ah well, he'll help fend off man-eating sheep I suppose."

"Come in," I say, pulling back the tent flap. Angela comes in and in the brief second I have taken my eyes off her, she is back to normal.

"Nice tent," she says. "Hmm. No protection against drunks and beggars though."

"I'm more concerned about mad rabbits."

"Come on! That's my line!"

I grin. "Not any more."

"You want to sit down?" I say, Conjuring a small sofa.

Angela crashes into the sofa and I sit next to her.

"Any reason for this visit?" I ask.

"Of course," Angela says. "I want to live here with you. We are your guards."  
>"I have got a spare sleeping quarters. I thought you were in hiding in Tronjheim?"<p>

"I was, but the execution of those drajil twins are being executed today at midday, and I don't have to hide now. And I wanted to watch the execution."

I shudder.

"I'll get you a bed."

I go to the spare compartment and get a double airbed and a double bed, this time red.

_Do you want to sleep with Angela? Or do you want your own compartment?_

Solembum flicked his whiskers.

_I will sleep in my own compartment._

_Would you like one of these?_

I summon a cat bed. Solembum sniffs it.

_It will do._

I clear out the weapons compartment, putting the weapons at the front. I put the cat bed in the spare compartment with a bowl of tuna and a separate bowl of water. Solembum pads into the compartment and says, _Thank you for the…tuna is it called?_

_You are welcome._

He sniffs the tuna and begins nibbling it.

"If you want anything, please let me know."

"I want immortality," announces Angela.

I grin. "Okay." I summon a glass with a liquid inside. "This is the essence of immortality."

Angela's eyebrows shot up.

"Really?"

"No. It's a glass of blackcurrant juice."

"I'll have it anyway," says Angela, snatching the glass from my grip. She takes a sip.

"You can have it back now," says Angela. I knock it out of her hand and Banish it before it can hit the floor.

"Cool."

I open the tent flap.

"Hey! Can you give me some food?"

"I need a tent!"

"My Dad's dying! Please help!"

"Have you got a sword?"

"Hey! Hey! Quieten down!" I yell. Everyone stops talking.

"Right. Whose dad is dying?"

A hand went up.

"I can't promise I'll cure him. But I'll try."

He is a little kid of about seven years old with a tear stained face.

He leads me to a tent where a man is nursing an arm that stops at the wrist. He is dangerously pale. I press my first two fingers against the wound, and utter, _"Waíse Heill!" _The skin flows over stump and he groans and pushes himself up on his good hand.

"Thanks," he mutters. I Conjure a piece of bread and eat it to regain my strength. I rely in Conjuring more than magic, so I forgot about the energy depletion. I note the hungry look in the boy's eye as he eyes the bread.

"Do you have any other brothers or sisters?" I ask the boy.

He shakes his head shyly.

"A mum?"

Another head shake.

"How did Dad feed you?"

"He couldn't," says the boy quietly. "After he caught his hand in the spokes of a wagon wheel yesterday, he told me to find the cook tents, but I couldn't leave him."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday?" I ask incredulously.

He shakes his head again. I give him a chocolate bar.

"Here. Eat it." He takes a nervous bite, but soon is happily devouring it.

"Got any more?"

"You need some proper food," I say. "Here."

I hand him a plate of chicken. He grins. "Thanks Farseer."

"He should be okay now. He isn't in danger, so now you can find the cook tents."

I go back to the tent to find it still crowded with people.

"Listen!" I yell. Everyone stops talking and looks at me.

"Every sixth day, from dawn to dusk, I will grant an audience to any who need it. Please come back then or go and see a member of Du Vrangr Gata, or someone else who can help. If anyone's life is at risk, I can help in the week. If not, please go."

Grumbling, the crowd dispersed.

Angela is beside me.

"I think you made a tough decision."

"I just want to help. But I can't be having these guys bugging me all the time."

"I know. It's a hard life."

I sigh and sit down. "Yeah, it's a hard life."

"Hello Emily."

It is a voice. Female. I vaguely recognise the voice. I look up and gasp.

"Arya!"

Her hair is glossy and dark and ears are pointed. Her eyes are bright and angled, as is her face. No one could mistake her as a human at short range. She dips her head unnervingly quickly and smiles.

"I'm surprised to see you up so quickly," I say.

"That is why I am here," she says. She speaks with a slight accent, and a soft aroma of pine needles is around us.

"You saved my life. I am in your debt."

"Thank you."

"You do realise that you will have to leave when the battle starts? Ajihad has decided that the battle is to be in Farthen Dûr and is evacuating all the women, children, and those unable to fight."

"But I have to fight! You'll fight!"

"I am old enough to make my own decisions. You are barely thirteen. Ajihad is doing this to keep you safe."

Arya speaks gently and without reproach, but her words hit me like hammer blows. I nod in defeat.

"Very well. I will go."

Arya nods but a hint of suspicion enters her eyes.

"I see you have attracted attention," Arya says.

"Were you watching that?" I say, embarrassed, although I hardly know why.

"Yes. You should be more alert."

"I know. I was concentrating on healing him."

"You cannot afford to give lots of energy to people. You have to be ready to fight."

"You said I wasn't to fight."

"Fights can appear at any times," Arya says.

I'm not sure I like Arya. She is too wise, too haughty. She thinks I am a kid. I like people to treat me like grown ups.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I wouldn't mind."

I summon a cup of tea.

"I don't like that drink personally, but most people do," I say, offering the cup to Arya. She looks stunned.

"I never knew you could do that!" she says. "Is it magic?"

"No. I don't think so," I say feeling in control. "If it is, it bypasses the main rule of magic."

"The energy rule?"

"Exactly," I say.

Arya takes a sip of the drink and swallows.

"It is not quite as nice as what I am used to, but I can see why most humans like it."

"Come on," I say to her, grinning. "Tell me what you really think of it."

"What I really think of it? Okay – I hate it."

I laugh. "And Arya finally shows her true emotions. Thanks for stopping by. You certainly made my day."

"I am pleased for that. I must go. Nasuada wants to see me."

"Where is she usually? I'd like to talk to her sometime."

"Why don't you come then?" asks Arya.

"You know what? I might do just that."

I follow Arya into a maze of passageways and through a door next to Ajihad's study. Flowers cast their aroma into the air and books were neatly stacked on the shelves. It is even more impressive than Jeod's study.

"Arya. Please have a seat."

"I hope you don't mind, Nasuada, but I brought the Farseer, Emily."

"Of course not."

I spot Nasuada amongst a stack of books, sitting in a high backed chair. Arya gracefully sits into a chair opposite her – I sit next to Arya. Nasuada is wearing a flowing red dress. Her dark skin is like mahogany and her eyes are so dark.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. I need you to look out for Eragon. According to the Farseer, he is in danger from Durza the Shade. We cannot let him be killed or captured."

"Yes. You can leave that to me."

"Good. You may leave."

Arya rises and leaves. I stay seated.

"Emily," Arya says, holding out her hand. "Come on."

"You go on Arya. I want to talk to Nasuada."

Arya hesitates and leaves.

"You said you wanted to see me?"

"Your father said that you had to be evacuated didn't he?"

Nasuada stiffened. "You won't tell him will you?"

"Tell him?" I repeat incredulously. "I won't tell him. I want to join you."

"Join me?" she says. "Join me?" It isn't a questioning haughty tone, just a thoughtful one.

"Will you?" I say, after a pause. The tension is unbearable.

"Yes. You can fight with me, with the archers."

"Will the archers tell? They might mistake you but never me."

"Don't worry," says Nasuada. "The archers won't talk."

"Thank you Nasuada," I say. "I am in your debt."

"Meet me under the beech tree at the far side of the training field. Tomorrow at midday. You know the place?"

"I haven't been there, but I'll find it."

"Then you are dismissed," Nasuada says formally. In a quieter voice she says, "I know how you feel Emily. You want to protect your friends and the Varden. You might be disobedient, but your heart is pure."

I bow and retreat. Two days. Two more days until the fight.

I wake in my tent to the sound of soldiers marching past my tent. All yesterday, women and children were evacuating. Tomorrow is the battle. I have to find Nasuada today. It is around nine o' clock.

I go straight to the training field. Lots of people are helpful and point me in the right direction. At first I think that they are just being generally helpful. Then I realise that they respect me. Many bow as I pass. The word about me has passed quickly.

I spot a large tree at the other end of the training field. Is it beech? I pull out a pocket book guide and study the tree. Definitely beech. This is where I am due to meet Nasuada. It's still early, about eleven and I do not expect to see Nasuada for about another hour. It comes as a surprise to see Nasuada striding across the field in leggings and a t-shirt.

"We need to hide until the battle," Nasuada says. "Here. It took a lot of digging around to find a chain mail suit that fits your size, but it's a good one."

I put the chain mail suit on.

"It's lightweight so you shouldn't have much trouble with movement."

I nod and Nasuada helps me to pull it over my head. It is strong and light. I hardly notice the weight difference. Nasuada looks it over.

"It's a good fit on you," she says. "Next, we need to cut your hair."

"My-my hair?"

"Of course."

"No, no, no, no!" I fondle my long dark hair.

"Okay. You'll have to do without a helmet then."

"A helmet?"

Nasuada lifts a steel helmet and places on her head. It is one with a slit for eyes, concealing the face. She gives me mine and shrugs.

"Do you want it or not?"

"I can't cut my hair!"

"Well, you could put it up."

"You tell me that now?"

I tie back my hair and put the helmet on. Nasuada outfits herself in chain mail, heavy gauntlets and a sword. She gives me heavy gauntlets and boots.

"Do you have a bow?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow, meet me here again. I'll show you to the army post. Take the gear off, but put it back on when you come here tomorrow."

"Understood. A million thanks, Nasuada."

Nasuada gives me a sack bag to put the gear in. I step out of the chainmail and put it in the bag. "Hope the evacuation goes well," I call back. She gives me a mischievous grin.

"I do too," she says. "I do too."

I spend the rest of the day practising magic or combat movements. I am nervous, but excited. I want to help the Varden, even if it means doing so in battle. Ajihad will probably be very angry with me, knowing that I have disobeyed his orders, but Nasuada has assured me that she will take the blame. I read over the battle scene over and over again until I know it off by heart. I am painfully aware that this is the end of the book. If anything happens to me, I want to make sure I say goodbye. I go up to the dragon hold and enter. I am greeted by Saphira.

_Greetings. I haven't seen you around for a while._

_I know. I have been very busy._

_What is the meaning of this visit then?_

_Saphira, this is the end of the book. If Brom's theories are correct, I leave either after the battle of Farthen Dûr, or, after the series is complete. I came to say goodbye._

_Oh, Emily._

_I know. I don't want to leave either, but I want to see my parents._

_You are one of the first humans I have ever met. I'd hate to lose you, but I would feel secure in the knowledge that you are home._

_If I don't see anyone else again, please tell them everything I have told you. Tell them what is to happen._

_How?_

_I will leave all the books in the dragon hold. I will also give you the memories._

I feel Saphira's surprise and shock.

_Are you sure? All the memories of the book?_

_I am. You are by far the most trustworthy I have met here._

_I am honoured._

_Are you ready, Bjartskullar?_

_I am, Farseer._

I meld my mind even more firmly with Saphira's and access the memories that I need. I hesitate. I am about to divulge the secrets of the world to Saphira. One dragon. I pause, but as Saphira's strength and honesty comes to mind, I curse myself for being a coward. I stream across the memories. Nothing is left out. Everything I know about this world is safely confided in someone I trust.

It is a relief to share the burden.

_If I leave, share this information with Brom. He will know what to do with it. Do not access it unless you desperately need it._

_I will. Oh Emily!_

She puts her head close to mine. I hug it furiously.

_If I can, I will visit you from my world._

Saphira laughs. _No. You belong to your world._

_I have to go Saphira._

_Evacuation?_

_Yes. _

From the teasing tone of her voice, I am almost sure that she knows. Almost. I fix my mind on all the books and they appear at Saphira's feet.

"Look after them," I say out loud. "They are your world."

_I will._

I give her another hug and leave. Tears are in my eyes. I stumble out of the dragon hold, down Vol Turin, down, down, down.

I go to the tent and collapse into an uneasy sleep. First I dream that Nasuada is searching for me calling, _"Farseer! Where are you?"_

Then Nasuada turned into mum and dad who were screaming, "EMILY! Come home!"

Then Mum and Dad were surrounded by grey horned beasts that lifted them into the air, axes poised.

"NO!"

I sit bolt upright in my sleeping bag and Angela comes over.

"Bad dream?"

I notice my breathing. It is fast. Uneven. Angela is sitting on my airbed. She checks my temperature. I flinch at her cold hand.

"I'm fine," I protest.

"No you're not," she says, knowingly and gently. "Of course you're not. But you will be."

"I miss my parents," I say miserably. "And I don't know whether I disappear at the end of the battle or not."

"Why?"

"Long story," I say. My breathing has evened out. "What time is it?"

"Around the eleventh hour."

I hurry to put on my stuff and belt Sundav and my dagger, and strap my quiver with my arrows and bow in onto my back. I string my bow, put on my helmet and run out of the tent, down to the training field. Nasuada is already there. I slide my visor up.

"You're late," she says.

"Sorry. I had a nightmare."

"Oh. I guess that makes it okay. Slide your visor down. We don't want anyone to recognise you."

We run with the other soldiers to the back of the Varden, on higher ground. We are behind a wooden palisade. I can see the three tunnels, each guarded by an army.

"They won't be here for a while," Nasuada says. "But we need to be ready."

"Who commands this army?"

"Jormadur," she says. "Less chance of being spotted from my father."

This is the same tunnel that Eragon is at!

I take my bow out of my quiver and check it. We sit there for ages.

"We'd better get a nap," Nasuada says. I almost fall over in delight. I haven't had much sleep recently. I lie down and sleep until I am shaken awake.

"It has begun," Nasuada says with a definite bitter note in her voice, but also a tinge of excitement.


	22. The Battle of Farthen Dûr

Chapter 22

**The Battle of Farthen Dûr **

Everyone is tense, watchful. Weapons are drawn and arrows are in place. I bound to my feet and fit an arrow in the string. I train it on the opening of the tunnel. Nasuada glances at me.

"Keep safe," she says gently. "I couldn't bear it of you were…hurt."

"I'll try," I say. Suddenly a man yells, "I hear them!"

Everyone stiffened once more. I hear them before I see them. War cries, growls, shouts, yells. I draw back my arrow. The string tenses and my body does likewise.

I suddenly spot a huge, menacing beast encased in black armour, a figure sitting on its back. I suddenly realise that it is Saphira and Eragon.

"Nasuada! Look!"

I point to Saphira. Nasuada nods. "They're here."

I suddenly snap back to reality. The Urgals are spilling out into the light and there is a barked order.

Liquid flowed from a cauldron and was ignited. The Urgals twist and a metallic scream fills the air as the Urgals are burnt alive. I shiver with revulsion. The Urgals yell, wave their weapons, climbing over the mounds of burning Urgals, some still half on fire. I pull back my bow and fire, as the arrows eat through the Urgal's ranks. The monsters waver and spill out again. More beasts. More than I ever imagined. I fire and fire and fire again. The noise is deafening. Urgal shouts and the Varden's war cries. I suddenly spot Saphira tearing through Urgals. Suddenly I want to be on the front lines with them. Saphira is awe inspiring in battle. The pikemen have fallen. I keep firing my arrows.

"That's it! I'm all out!"

"Here! Take a few of mine!"

She lends me a few. Eragon and Saphira have suddenly taken off and landed near a dwarf, surrounded by guards. With a jolt, I realise that it is Hrothgar.

"I'm going to go on ahead!" I yell.

"What? NO! Stay here!" screams Nasuada.

"I want to help! Once I'm out, I can't help!"

"Emily!" she roars as I run out from behind the palisade. I sprint to Hrothgar's tunnel and meet Eragon.

"I thought you'd evacuated?" yells Eragon, beheading an Urgal.

"Do I look like a wimp?" I scream, stabbing one through the gut.

Eragon smiles at me as an Urgal creeps up on him from behind.

"Eragon!" I yell. "DEYJA!"

The Urgal dies. I brace myself, but there is no wave of exhaustion, only a little depletion.

"I've never heard that word before."

"Maybe you should think about that later!"

"Could you teach me some?"

"Sure! When you're not getting your butt kicked!"

Eragon parries a blow.

"Durza is here."  
>"Where?"<p>

"Tronjheim. Find Arya. We have to take care of it!"

"Saphira can't carry all of us!"

"I'll run. You and Arya have to get there more than I do."

I take off, running towards Tronjheim. I thank my lucky stars I took the time to study the battle, otherwise I wouldn't have a hope in hell of getting to the Shade. I run towards the city and into the hall. Above me is the Star Rose.

"Well, well, well."

I spin around.

"Durza!"

The Shade walks towards me. I draw Sundav. Behind me I notice a circle of Urgals and a few human guards. In the centre are Durza and I.

"Why aren't you out there, fighting the Urgals with your other friends? And how do you know my name?"

"I have a friend who has all the answers," I lie desperately.

Durza's eyes narrow.

"I know that voice."

My eyes dart towards the door.

"It is a girl's voice," he continues, hate in his eyes. "She shot me with some new technology of some sort. It was ugly. She knew more than she should. With the same sword as yours."

I grip Sundav even harder. Durza blurs towards me and slaps my helmet. I stumble back and straighten up. My helmet falls to the ground.

"You," he breathes savagely.

"Me," I say. "Excuse me please, so I can get back to the important business of hewing your buddy's necks."

"That won't be possible," he says, and at an order I am lifted by my collar into the air. My fingers are numb and I drop Sundav. My quiver and dagger are snatched by his human guards.

"My master does not want me to kill you," Durza snarls. "Bear in mind that one of my Urgals may just go wild and kill you if you make me angry_. _Do not make trouble with me."

He barks out another order. Some sort of liquid is forced down my throat. It burns. I try and cough it up, but I am too late. Consciousness slips away from me. I see Eragon rushing in and try to warn him, but my lips won't move. I relax into a blissful unconsciousness. The last thing I hear is Eragon's voice yelling, "EMILY!"


	23. Celibell

Chapter 23 Celibell

I sit up. A cell. I close my eyes and a multitude of faces rushes past me. Eragon, Brom, Ajihad, Hrothgar, Arya, Nasuada, Saphira and the entire Varden. The people I wanted to help, and now, I have been torn away from them.

_Have they won the battle? Have they defeated Durza?_

I suddenly realise that if I am here, the Urgals or Durza must have brought me. And if either one had brought me here, Durza is alive. And if Durza is alive, the Urgals must have won. I cost them the battle. It is a bittersweet realisation. I recognise the cell. It is the exact same one as Gil'ead's cell. I try the door. The bars are at the top. I try to get my feet up to the bars, but fail. Even if I did, I couldn't slip through the bars.

A man looks through the bars. He is garbed in the finest clothes.

"You're awake...Emily Farseer is it?"

"Let me out."  
>The man chuckles. "I apologise, but I cannot let you go. King Galbatorix, pleased to meet you."<p>

I shiver. Angela's words have come true.

"Why do you want me?"

"You almost killed Durza. He is dead now, but you have still caused him and me a lot of pain."

"And?"

"The technology you used. What is it? How do you create it?"

"…I have no idea how you create it."

"Really?"

"I speak the truth."  
>"Then how did you come by it?"<p>

"I found it in the armoury."  
>"You are a liar," he laughs. "Every item in the armoury is listed. This piece of equipment was not on the list. Tell the truth."<p>

"It was in the guardroom," I repeat stubbornly.

Galbatorix's face twists into a snarl.

"Thrysta Vindr," he spits. I am knocked into the wall and double over.

"You are only a child. I do not wish to hurt you. Tell me the truth."  
>I gasp for air, and Galbatorix lets himself into the cell.<p>

He utters another word and the air seems to solidify, pinning me to the wall. He draws a knife and approaches me. I struggle helplessly.

"TELL ME!"

"Go…to…hell," I whisper. I cannot use magic, not in front of Galbatorix as he'd drug me, but there is still one weapon I can use and that he cannot suppress. I mentally review what I know about wards.

A smaller cell suddenly appears around him.

"How did you do that?" yells Galbatorix, looking around at the cell. He utters a quick spell. The cell shatters. I shiver as Galbatorix steps forwards.

"Guard!"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Take her to the torture chambers. I will have to go. Beware, she may look helpless, but she will need maximum security."

"Yes your majesty. Of course."

I am released from Galbatorix's spell, and I collapse as the soldier hauls me upright. I am forced out of the cell and down a corridor as Galbatorix vanishes into the shadows. The men force me into a room with a table in and strap me down on it. One of them pulls out a knife and the other guards leave. He advances. I try and pull away in blind panic. Remembering Brom's lessons, I calm myself, taking deep breaths. _How can I escape?_

I review my Conjuring skills. I need a distraction.

I summon a firework, light it, and it explodes, shooting forwards. It explodes in a spectacular light show.

"What the-?"

I yell, "Brisingr!"

The straps are burned, and, before the guard can recover, I am up and placing a newly-Conjured samurai sword on the torturer's collarbone.

"Where are my weapons? And where am I?"

"I…don't talk to rebel scum," the man stammers.

"Well, you'd better. How would you like a drop of boiling water sliding down your throat?"

"You can't fool me," the man sneers, lip wobbling. "You can't use magic."

"Really? Adurna!"

A drop of water rises from the ground, over my hand. The man's courage deserts him. At my word, the drop starts steaming.

"This drop is hot enough to boil water. It is certainly hot enough to burn your insides out. So tell me what I want to know, or…"

I thrust my hand out and the droplet shoots forwards, dancing in front of the man's nose. He gulps.

"Guard room, upstairs."

"And…" I prompt, making the steaming droplet dance over my palm.

"Urû' baen. You're in the capital."

I nod.

"Slytha."

The man is snoring before he hits the ground. I run upstairs, into the guard room and retrieve my bow, quiver, sword and dagger. I hear the sound of men running towards me.

_I wonder if they like speed? _

I summon a Land Rover and gun the engine. The soldiers slow down, but advance.

I gun the engine and the soldiers break into a run, their footsteps dying away.

_They must be running away._

I push the accelerator and speed down the corridor. The soldiers are blocking the exit, and some are running after me. I notice the engine whining and realise that it's a manual, so I press the clutch and change gear. I breathe out. Second. Third. Third is about the most I want to go. The soldiers guarding the gates are not moving.

_I guess I lose this game of chicken__, _I think, veering out of the way, smashing down a wall and driving into the city. I race down the narrow streets, honking my horn when people are in my way. I should get points on my license for this. I notice loads of people looking shocked and open mouthed. The only thing faster than a car on terrain like this, is a motorbike, and I don't know how to drive one. A Land Rover is perfect for me.

I look up ahead. The gates are closing. I think desperately. Then I have an idea. I stop the car and vanish it. This had better work. I run for the city walls and shout, "Audr!"

I am lifted up, up, up…I laugh, trying not to notice my rapidly decreasing energy levels. At last, I can cope no longer. I end the spell and catch the top of the wall. I rest on the top of the wall for a second. How on earth am I going to get down? Magic cannot help me here. My energy levels are dangerously low.

Images flash to me suddenly: _A lone man leaping off a cliff, soaring the winds, high above the sky…_I smile. Of course.

I Conjure a huge kite, with the bar attached. I grasp hold of the bar and, praying to high heavens, I leap off the wall.

_Youch!_

My leg bangs into the wall and I howl in pain. I feel something in my leg snaps. I hiss in discomfort as I try and move it. I don't have the energy to heal it. Especially when I don't know what exactly is broken.

I fly over the land for miles. Hardly anyone looks up. I have got the hang of this now. Pull on one side of the bar and you turn one way. Pull on the other side and you go the other. The problem is how to stop. I don't know how to land it, but I have to. I have an idea. I Conjure a bouncy castle and Manipulate it. I concentrate fiercely. I have only Enlarged something twice, and it was a potato. The bigger, the more difficult. I succeed on the third try and let go of the bar. I fall into the squashy huge bouncy castle. I am tossed into the air and come to rest. Tears spring to my eyes as stabbing pains in my leg increase. I curl up into a ball and try and subdue the pain. I scream without thinking, "Waise neiat!"

The pain in my leg decreases to a barely bearable stabbing knife. I slowly uncurl. The spell left me with only a little energy decreased, so I roll off the bouncy castle and Banish it. Before I can do anything else, exhaustion overtakes me and I fall asleep.

I slowly uncurl. My energy levels are still not quite up to normal, so I Conjure a huge breakfast and devourer it entirely.

I decide on Conjuring a horse to help me, but, like the Inheritance book, it does not work properly. It starts off fine, but when, usually, the object appears, my power dies, leaving me with no horse. I try Conjuring a clover leaf. It does work this time, but it seems I cannot Conjure animals, not even a beetle.

I shrug. Bad luck.

So how to get back to the Varden, without announcing that I can tip the balance of war in Alagaësia?

I think of calling for a horse with my mind in the ancient language, but I don't want runaway horses everywhere, and besides, there is always a chance that someone might pick up my mental cry.

I decide that being inconspicuous is probably my best option right now. I try to walk. I hobble forwards. The pain is reduced, but still hurts.

I remember what Oromis says about draining energy from the surroundings. I really don't want to do it, but I'll never get far on this leg of mine. I stretch out my palm and place it on the grass. Dreading what I am about to do, I reach out my mind and sense the grass as green dancing energy. I absorb it. Suddenly, the grass all around me withers and grows brown. I feel it all die, millions of lives dying all around me. I didn't mean to kill anything other than plants, but millions upon billions of bacteria die, including three earthworms and a beetle. I feel sick, but then I feel all the energy inside me, and that lessens the impact. Even so, I swear never to take energy from something that cannot stand it.

I put a hand on my leg.

"_Waíse heill_!"

I wince as I feel my leg snapping into place and realigning, but it doesn't hurt, just feels uncomfortable. I also remove the spell I first cast, when I landed. I stand up and walk on, Banishing the bouncy castle. I walk on, hoping that someone from the Varden will soon arrive.

At the end of the day, I still can see Urû' baen behind me. I am feeling depressed. I have to cross the length of Alagaësia…again. Suddenly, golden light is all around me. All the Eragon books have appeared without me summoning them. Everything slows to a halt. I don't even feel the wind. The golden light is all around me now, leaving only two portals open. One shows the place I have just left: Alagaësia. Still silent, unmoving and almost lifeless. The other shows my room, just as still as Alagaësia.

I always knew that I had a choice to make. A choice of a world with magic or adventure, or a choice of a life with love. I just didn't expect it to be so soon.

"Do I have to choose?" I whisper. Part of the gold light separated from the rest.

"Yes," it says, still forming. It has no legs, just a wispy streak. It floats above the ground. It has long arms and a caring face. It stops transforming and faces me.

"Who are you?"

"I am Celibell."

"Did you bring me here?" I wonder out loud.

Celibell nods. "Yes. I decided on you to teach."

"…teach? Celibell, please explain."

"But you know," she said.

"You taught me…" I try to examine my experiences in Alagaësia. Suddenly, I realise my thinking is too narrow. It is so obvious, staring me in the face.

_You read to escape the real life._

I haven't thought about those words in ages.

"I remember," I say aloud.

"Yes?" Celibell prompts.

"Real life is important," I say, frowning in concentration. "It's so important that it shouldn't be blocked out by books and unreality."

"Exactly," Celibell said. "A lesson with every series."

"So I have to choose between the two worlds?"

"Yes. But beware of this: you may visit your own world if you choose Alagaësia, but only after each book. You may even live forever in Alagaësia if you choose not to return after Inheritance."

I shudder. "I could not live like that."

I remember what Angela said.

_You can choose to live for a long period of time or a normal span of years. I have to warn you though, although the long years are the easy option, they are not always best. You are in complete control of this decision_.

"Will I be able to visit other books too?"

"If I decide. Once you have completed a book, you may return at will."

Everyone has already known the right choice for me to make. Brom, Saphira and even Angela know that it is right for me to return. But I don't want to betray them. I want to help. I almost scream in frustration.

"I don't want to leave Eragon."

"Are you sure that it is Eragon, not Alagaësia you want to return to?"

I examine my feelings.

"No. Alagaësia is magical…adventurous…and I want to stay to help _it _as well. If Galbatorix rules and Eragon dies…" I trail off.

"Then I will fix it so that you may enter any of the Eragon books you desire if you return home. No time will have passed in either world."

"If home is the right choice, then I choose it."

Celibell nods approvingly. "Then step through the portal."

I ready myself.

"Goodbye Eragon…for now," I whisper.

I step through. It feels like the best thing I have ever done. It feels refreshing. My heart gives an excited leap. I am going to see my family again!

I am in my bedroom. All the traces of magic and Conjuring are gone from my mind. I feel almost empty without it. I cannot stretch out my awareness and feel Mum or Dad. Celibell says not time will have passed, but will they know? I look down on myself. My cuts and bruises have not disappeared and my leg still aches slightly. I automatically say, "Weise heill." Nothing happens. Of course it wouldn't. I hurriedly remove the clothes I was wearing fold them up in a box and put them under my bed and get changed in the clothes I was wearing before I got swept away. I look at the Eragon books. I don't want to touch them, just in case they transport me to Alagaësia. I wrap them in a cloth, cover them, and place them in a spare row on the bottom of my bookshelf. I lie down on my bed as the door opens. Mum and Dad walk in. I throw myself at them and give them a hug. I cannot pretend now, that I am angry with them. They looked shocked but hug me back. I smile contentedly.

This is my home.

This is my world.

This is my family.

**THE END **


End file.
